


King and Lionheart

by FingertipsofRose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cheerleaders, Football, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FingertipsofRose/pseuds/FingertipsofRose
Summary: “What are you looking at, asshole?”The upward shift of the boy’s eyebrows was minuscule. A beat passed. Seeming to think better of it, the boy turned away without a word, wiping the sweat from his face and hair with an old towel. Yuri’s eyes scanned his retreating back, lingering on the embroidered name on the jersey. “Altin”. If Yuri remembered correctly, that was the last name of the team’s running back. The first name remained a mystery Yuri had no interest in solving. After cheering on varsity for over a year, Yuri still hadn’t managed to pay much attention to the team members he cheered for.or, a high school au where Yuri is a cheerleader, and Otabek is a football player. who fall in love. because why not.Yuri is a sophomore (16) in this and Otabek is a junior (17)





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Plisetsky didn’t think he had much in common with the football players that were running suicides on the other side of the field. The coach’s whistle puffed out a sound in what seemed to be ten second increments that dictated when the players would switch directions to sprint to the other end of the ever-widening cone sectors. Their sport had nothing to do with grace or beauty; in Yuri’s eyes, all that football took was brute force and thick biceps. However, the one thing that Yuri Plisetsky and the rest of the cheerleading squad _did_ have in common with the football team on Thursday afternoon was _sweat_. The sun beat down onto the grass and everything that stood atop it. Despite it being early September, the thermometer on Yuri’s phone displayed a bothersome 88 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

“Heat builds character!” Yuri could hear Coach Yakov shouting nonsense at his players from all the way across the stadium.

 

Sitting cross-legged on the bleachers, Yuri glanced up from his phone every so often to watch the jersey-clad team members strain themselves while running back and forth. He would openly admit that though he looked down on the sport itself, he could see the immense effort and pain it took the football team to excel and bring home wins for the local high school. And besides, muscular bodies pushing themselves to their limits wasn’t exactly a strain on anyone’s eyes.

 

“Yu-ri-o!” A familiar voice sang from somewhere behind Yuri’s place on the bleachers. The clanging of feet hitting each metal step grew louder and louder as Yuri groaned, knowing exactly what was coming. Two toned arms wrapped themselves around Yuri’s middle, dragging him into a firm embrace. “How is my favorite flyer enjoying the heat? And,” the speaker leaned in close enough that his lips brushed Yuri’s ear, “the _view_?”  

 

“Get the hell off of me!” Yuri snapped, pulling out of the embrace and turning to face the high school senior, Viktor Nikiforov. “Just because you’re captain this year doesn’t give you permission to be yanking me around and invading my personal space!”  
“Oh, Yurio, you wound me! Don’t you love me? How am I to recover from this cold and heartless rejection!” Viktor sighed, letting his face fall onto Yuri’s shoulder, causing the younger student’s face to go flame-red. Viktor’s flair for the dramatic was oftentimes wasted on Yuri and his short temper.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me by that stupid nickname! We aren’t friends or anything! The hell’s wrong with you?”

 

“But Yuri, how else am I supposed to avoid confusing you and football-Yuuri?” Viktor pouted, shoving the top of his head further into Yuri’s shoulder. The position couldn’t be comfortable for the senior’s neck, as Viktor was a good half of a foot taller than Yuri.

 

“Not my problem. You managed to keep us straight all throughout my freshman year, I don’t see why it should suddenly be an issue now,” Yuri slid a few feet down the bleachers, putting space between himself and the captain of the cheer squad.

 

“He wasn’t quarterback your freshman year! And at the time, I hadn’t seen the glowing light that is known to us all as Yuuri Katsuki!”

 

“Like I said, you being the complete and utter cliche that is a cheerleading captain that wants to bone the quarterback is _not my problem_.” Yuri snapped with an air of finality before standing up and walking over to the grass to take his break. Unfortunately, Viktor didn’t seem deterred by Yuri’s chilly candor as he crept after the younger boy.

 

“But _Yuri_ , you didn’t _see_! At Chris’s when football-Yuuri was all tipsy and helping with tosses -”

 

“I saw plenty, Viktor. You’re the only one who walked out of the party with a boner for that pig. And him picking you up while you two to groped each other does not count as him ‘helping with tosses,’” Yuri added air quotes for emphasis. “Drunk morons.”  

 

“Oh, Yurio,” Viktor sighed. “I know you’re young and don’t understand love yet -” Viktor started.

 

“Shut up, I’m sixteen not _eight_!”

 

“But you’ll understand when you’re older and meet the right person,” Viktor giggled, gazing across the field at the players running drills.

 

“For fuck’s sake...” Yuri muttered, heading over to the water coolers to refill his bottle. Being the youngest cheerleader on the squad was difficult enough without Viktor choosing him as his favorite audience for romantic laments. At the cooler, another cheerleader was humming as she filled up her water bottle.

 

“Hello, Yurotchka,” Mila’s pretty, bird-like voice fooled most people into thinking she was harmless, but Yuri was not an idiot. “Is Viktor bothering you again?” She tutted. “Poor baby. All these scary upperclassmen need to leave my child alone!”

 

“Shut up, hag, I’m not your son! You’re all fucking crazy, especially today. Is the heat messing with the way your brains function?”

 

“How else are we supposed to treat the baby of the squad?”

 

“Any normal human being would quit with the baby jokes after my first year.”

 

“You just can’t handle the love, my dear! Someday when the rest of us have graduated and left you all alone you’ll appreciate what you have now!” The red-haired junior flounced away, leaving Yuri alone at the cooler.

 

After taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Yuri leaned down to fill his bottle. He pulled the lever down for just a moment longer than necessary, letting the chilled water cover his sweaty hands. Wiping the damp coolness onto the back of his neck was a sweet, momentary relief from the beating sun. As he moved his hands from his neck, to his face, to push back his long blond hair, Yuri looked up to meet the eyes of one of the football players standing nearby. Instead of glancing away from the sudden eye contact, the other boy’s dark gaze lingered on Yuri. Yuri’s face contorted in annoyance.

 

“What are you looking at, asshole?”

 

The upward shift of the boy’s eyebrows was minuscule. A beat passed. Seeming to think better of starting an argument, the boy turned away without a word, wiping the sweat from his face and hair with an old towel. Yuri’s eyes scanned his retreating back, lingering on the embroidered name on the jersey. “Altin”. If Yuri remembered correctly, that was the last name of the team’s running back. The first name remained a mystery Yuri had no interest in solving. After cheering on varsity for over a year, Yuri still hadn’t managed to pay much attention to the team members he cheered for.

 

Near the entrance to the stadium, three loud toots from Coach Lilia’s high-pitched whistle penetrated the air, signifying the end of the cheer squad’s break. It was back to the grueling routine practice under the hot sun in the humid air. Not only was the first football game of the school year the next evening, but Coach Lilia was pushing for first at nationals this year, and the harsh lecture she had given at the beginning of the season still stuck with most of the cheerleaders, particularly Yuri. He took a final gulp of water before jogging over to toss his bottle back into his pile of belongings and rejoin the group.

 

For the rest of practice, Yuri endured the sweaty hands of multiple cheerleaders touching his body as they practiced lifts and tosses. As much as Yuri loved flying through the air with all eyes on him, the entire group having blanket permission to put their hands all over him was not Yuri’s favorite part of flying.

 

Standing on the hands of Georgi and Viktor, Yuri could feel the breeze against exposed flesh of his arms, legs, and face. As he centered his weight in preparation for the toss, Yuri sucked in a breath of the fresh air. The two bases bent their arms to toss Yuri into the air. Familiar adrenaline coursed through him as he executed a near-perfect pike basket. The split seconds Yuri spent free falling as he completed his jump were agonizing, but Georgi and Viktor’s strong hands locked around Yuri’s body as he hurtled towards the earth.

 

With the toss completed correctly, Lilia made a few notes on her clipboard before answering a phone call. After a few seconds of rapid-fire exchange between the subject on the phone and the cheerleading coach, she waved a hand at her students, effectively dismissing them. Yuri took the opportunity to sprint over to his pile of personal possessions and retrieve his neglected cell phone.

 

As the cheerleaders dispersed, Yuri noticed that the football team was also wrapping up their practice. From a few feet away, he could hear Viktor furiously whispering to Georgi as Yuuri Katsuki made his way over to the water coolers. Rolling his eyes, Yuri cranked up his screen brightness; the overbearing sun had made it next to impossible to see his Instagram feed.

 

“Yuuri!” The intonation of Viktor’s voice implied that he was attempting to flirt. Yuri’s immediate response was to pounce on his backpack and tear open the front pocket, rooting through pencils, hair ties, and tubes of chapstick to find his headphones. He would _not_ sit and listen to Viktor make a fool of himself over the ever-awkward football player. Jamming the headphones into his ears, the sounds of R&B filled Yuri’s ears, drowning out the stupidity that was erupting a few feet from his person. If the head cheerleader wanted to throw away the squad’s spot at nationals his senior year then so be it, Yuri thought. He himself had two more years of high school competition before he graduated, and if Viktor wanted to spend his final year chasing after some thick-headed football douche he knew nothing about, it was his own stupid mistake.

  
Yuri was shaken out of his internal monologue as his music began to fade, slowly being replaced with his ringtone playing through the earbuds. He rolled his eyes and glanced down at his phone’s screen, the caller ID indicating that the call was from his grandfather. Immediately less irritated, Yuri pressed the green button to accept the call.

 

“Hello?”  

 

“Hello, Yurotchka, is that you?”

 

“Yes, Grandpa, who else would it be?” Yuri giggled quietly, hoping to draw little attention to his conversation. No doubt the upperclassmen on the squad would have no qualms against butting into his business, especially during a private phone call. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry but the man working on the car is taking longer than I expected,” Yuri’s grandfather began. Yuri slumped slightly. He’d already forgotten the conversation they’d had this morning about the car needing an oil change. “I won’t be able to pick you up from your practice in time for your ballet lesson this afternoon.”

 

“Oh -” Yuri began, about to reassure his grandfather that it was fine. With anyone else, he would have been stomping and spitting about the unprofessional service from the mechanic, but with his grandfather he just sighed and accepted the inconvenience.

 

“Could one of the other students bring you to your lesson, perhaps?” Yuri’s grandfather suggested. Yuri glanced around at the dwindling number of cheerleaders. Mila and Georgi had already vanished, and Viktor looked as if he had cornered Yuuri into the most painful conversation the football player had ever endured. Yuri had no desire to interrupt that.

 

“I can figure something out,” Yuri sighed, letting a bit of his annoyance seep into his voice.

 

“Alright, I don’t want you to miss class,” Grandfather assured Yuri. “But call me if you can’t figure something out and I’ll come for you the moment this man finishes the oil.”

 

“Okay, see you soon, goodbye!” Yuri said as he hung up the phone, ensuring the scowl on his face would not be entirely reflected in his voice. He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes, not looking forward to the long wait in the hot sun he would inevitably have to endure. None of the cheerleaders were likely to offer Yuri a ride, and his pride kept him from asking around.

 

Accepting his fate, Yuri loaded his water bottle, sweatshirt, and sweatpants into his backpack. The two latter items had not been of much use at the day’s practice, as the heat had kept Yuri in his shorts and t-shirt all afternoon. He slung the strings of his bag over his shoulders and began to make his way out of the stadium. Near the entrance stood Viktor and Yuuri, Yuuri eyeing the doors like they could rescue him from the onslaught of head cheerleader, Viktor Nikiforov. Really, Yuri thought, one would think Katsuki would appreciate the attention. Even Yuri could admit that Viktor was hot as hell, despite being annoying in literally every other aspect.

 

“Get a room, morons!” Yuri snapped as he passed by the would-be couple. Yuuri Katsuki’s face turned bright red while Viktor laughed airily. Yuri couldn’t understand Yuuri’s embarrassment, considering how willingly he’d practically exposed himself with Viktor at the end of summer party a few weeks ago. It was no secret to anyone that something or another was going on between the two of them.

 

Yuri opened the door to the stadium with a well-aimed kick. The bang of metal was satisfying as hell, the loud sound and burst of movement feeling like a release of some of his anger. It was a long walk from the stadium to the locker rooms in the school. More than anything, Yuri just wanted to wash away the sweat and dirt that felt caked onto his body. He reached up to pull his hair out of the elastic that held his high ponytail neatly at the top of his head. Most of the other boys on the squad had hair too short to be tied up in a bow, but Yuri relished in showcasing matching complex styles with the girls on the squad in competition. Now, however, the ponytail was just giving him a headache. More dull aches began to form throughout the rest of his body from the repetitive jumps the squad had been practicing that day. As much as Yuri loved and appreciated his spot as a flyer on the squad, it was grueling work. The rational part of his mind told him that it was for the best that his grandfather couldn’t bring him to ballet. Today had been difficult and ballet would make his soreness even worse the next day. The less rational, but much more ambitious part of his mind berated him for wasting an entire evening.

 

When Yuri arrived outside the locker room doors, he took a deep breath, expecting the usual nonsense of the football team and cheer squad arguing over showers and benches. But when the door opened, the room was unusually peaceful. Only one shower was still running, and most of the boys still lingering around the benches were packing up. Heaving a sigh of relief, Yuri wandered over to a shower stall to rinse the grime off of himself. Yuri despised the cold showers of the school locker room, but on a normal day he refused to show up to ballet sweaty and smelling terribly. Today he’d miss ballet, but he still wasn’t going to sit in his sweat and grime while he waited for his ride when he could wash the dirt off himself and run a comb through his hair.

 

After rinsing and drying off, Yuri pulled on the clothes he’d worn to school that day. He stood in front of the mirror in the now-empty locker room, running his comb through the tangles in his hair. Placing the comb in his mouth, he bent over and pulled his hair into a bun on the back of his head, securing it with an elastic. After tossing his comb into his backpack, Yuri made his way out of the red-painted locker room.

 

The walk back outside was nowhere near as unpleasant now that Yuri was clean and out of his sweaty clothes. As the sun started to move from its high spot in the afternoon sky, the air began to cool. The bench in the shade that Yuri often occupied to wait for his ride was empty as usual, so he plunked himself down onto the cool metal that matched the rest of the school’s red and gold decor.

 

Finally, the sophomore had a moment of quiet, all to himself. He knew that waiting an extra hour for his grandfather would be grating on his nerves, but at least he could listen to music in peace here. Before he allowed himself to settle comfortably, Yuri tapped out a text to his ballet instructor, Minako.

 

_hey minako, its yuri plisetsky. my grandfathers car is in the shop and i dont think ill be able to make it to my lesson this afternoon. maybe we could reschedule._

 

Minako’s response was immediate.

 

 _Ugh, Yuri! Well, I’m glad you let me know. See you next Tuesday._  

 

Yuri glanced at the time on his phone. It was 4:55, already ten minutes after his lesson was scheduled to start. He had dawdled getting to the locker room, dawdled getting ready, and dawdled walking out. Now, there was no one from either sports team to be found. He composed a second text to his grandfather.

 

_couldnt find anyone to give me a ride, so just pick me up whenever. dont worry about rushing, im fine waiting for a bit_

 

The text was a half truth. By now, Yuri’s fiery irritation at the entire world had faded to a general disdain towards only part of the world. He pulled out his earbuds once more, chose a song from his music library and settled in to wait.

 

Yuri must have nodded off in the few minutes he had allowed his eyes to close and be shielded from the sun. He was shaken violently from his impromptu nap by the sounds of a loud engine. It took Yuri mere seconds to find the source of the sound as he yanked out his headphones and jerked his head around. A few feet away, a leather jacket-clad person was pulling a helmet from their head and turning off the engine of a motorcycle. When the helmet was removed, Yuri recognized the rider as the football player that had stared him down earlier in the afternoon. What the hell, Yuri thought, was the guy’s damn first name? Before Yuri could ask, or even get a complaint about the noise in, Altin spoke.

 

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” His voice was low and on the quieter side.

 

“I - uh,” Yuri started, still in a mild state of shock at the sight and sound of the bike. “I’m waiting for someone.”

 

“It’s late. Are you sure they’re coming?” Altin asked, squinting a bit as if he didn’t believe Yuri’s claim.

 

“Of course they’re coming,” Yuri snapped. “My grandfather is getting his car fixed and it’s taking longer than expected. That’s all.” He didn’t know why he was giving details to the running back standing before him.

 

Before Altin could reply, Yuri’s phone pinged, indicating a text. When he glanced down to read it, he saw it was from his grandfather.

 

_The mechanic said it will be another forty minutes to an hour. I’m sorry Yurotchka._

 

“Oh for fucks -” Yuri snarled, tossing his phone back into his lap, his irritation returning at full throttle. “I’m not waiting another hour. Will I die on that thing?” Yuri’s question was directed at the football player’s bike.

 

“Not if you hold onto me and wear head protection,” Altin replied, unclipping the extra helmet from the back of his bike and tossing it towards Yuri. Yuri caught it easily and made his way towards the motorcycle, trying not to think too hard about his decision. Before mounting the back of the bike, Yuri shot off another text to his grandfather.

 

_nvm, found someone last minute to take me home. dont worry about it grandpa_

 

Yuri straddled the bike seat. “Hold on,” Altin commanded as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. In mild terror, Yuri’s arms shot around the football player’s middle and gripped tightly. Altin kicked off the pavement and allowed the bike to roll out of the parking lot.

 

As the motorcycle turned onto the main road and picked up speed, the wind blew the little flyaway hairs from Yuri’s bun around his face.  


	2. Chapter 2

After getting over the initial terror of riding on the back of a motorcycle for the first time, Yuri was able to give clear directions on how to get to his house from the school. Though the house was on the outside of town, the drive wasn’t terribly long. Yuri did his best not to squeeze the breath out of the boy giving him a ride, but each time the bike went over a bump, Yuri’s hands clenched in the soft leather of Altin’s jacket. Riding on a bike was an entirely different experience from riding in a car. No rolled-down window would produce the same exhilarating feeling of the wind whipping through one’s hair. Yuri could only imagine the mess his hair would be if it were allowed to flow freely without the confines of a bun and helmet.

 

As the pair turned onto residential roads with lower speed limits, the intense feeling began to slip away. If anyone asked, Yuri would shrug and feign indifference toward the experience, but inside, he felt like an elated child. Dangerous things, even milder ones such as a motorcycle, were unfamiliar territory for Yuri. He didn’t go out much, didn’t have enough steady friendships to warrant opportunities to be foolish.  

 

“You can take a right up here, then it’s four houses down on the left,” Yuri tilted his head so he spoke directly into the football player’s ear, allowing himself to be head over the roar of the engine. Though Altin gave no verbal indication that he heard Yuri speak, he flicked on his bike’s turn signal and steered down the next street. Tension that Yuri didn’t even realize he had been holding released itself from his shoulders when he saw the familiar house. As they pulled up, he noticed that the old woman living next door was out on her front porch with her yappy little dog. Yuri hated that dog, always barking at him and bothering his cat on the rare occasion she ventured outdoors. Fantastic, Yuri thought, who doesn’t love nosy old ladies questioning them about boys driving them home? No way she wouldn’t tell his grandfather he’d been on some random student’s motorcycle. Yuri firmly believed that the old woman had nothing but suburban neighborhood gossip left to live for. 

 

Altin stopped the bike at the end of Yuri’s driveway, but made no motion to dismount or to turn off the engine. Yuri swung his legs off of the still-vibrating bike. When he opened his mouth to speak, the roaring easily drowned him out. Yuri gave Altin a dirty look and waved a hand vaguely at the bike. Altin cocked his head slightly, looking like an idiot with his sunglasses and helmet, before understanding Yuri’s demand and cutting the engine. 

 

“Well,” Yuri started, already not knowing what to say. He should have just waved and made a beeline for his front door. “Thanks. I really didn’t feel like waiting an extra hour at that hellhole.” 

 

“It’s nothing,” Altin replied, removing the sunglasses from his eyes. Yuri waited a beat, but it was obvious that was all the other boy had to say. 

 

“Do you,” Yuri started uncertainly. “want to... come in?” He didn’t know what to say. No one had ever offered to give him a ride home before. Social situations like these were not his forte in any way, shape, or form. 

 

“Thanks. But I have to get home to watch my sister,” Altin replied. “I’m glad we got to talk though.” 

 

Talk? Yuri gaped at him. They had barely exchanged two sentences other than the directions Yuri had been half-shouting into the other boy’s ear. 

 

“I’ve been wanting to introduce myself for awhile now. You're very... interesting, I guess,” Altin continued. “See you tomorrow, then? You’re cheering at the game, right?” Yuri nodded mutely. “Until then, Yuri.” 

 

“I - yeah. Thanks again, Altin,” Yuri struggled to reply. The miniscule eyebrow raise was back, presumably at Yuri’s weird use of the running back’s last name. Jesus, Yuri thought. Couldn't he just drive away already so Yuri couls avoid saying more stupid shit, go inside, and await the inevitable lecture from his Grandpa when Mrs. Petrov inevitable ratted on him for riding on a motorcycle? 

 

Luckily, Yuri’s wish was granted as Altin gave him an awkward thumbs up before kicking off once more and driving away. 

 

“For fuck’s sake... ‘Interesting?’” Yuri muttered as he curiously watched the bike retreat. He turned to start making his way towards his front door. It only took about five paces before Mrs. Petrov was calling out to him from her porch. 

 

“Yuri Plisetsky, does your grandfather know you ride on the back of a neighborhood thug’s motorcycle?” 

 

“I imagine he’ll know pretty soon, what with your track record in sticking your nose into my business!” Yuri snapped. He made no effort to correct her thug comment. What would he say? That no, Altin wasn’t a  _ thug _ , he was on the football team? Somehow that didn’t sound any better in Yuri’s mind. 

 

“Rude boy!” Mrs. Petrov tutted as Yuri stomped up the stairs to his front door. He elected not to respond as he turned his key in the lock. It took extensive amounts of restraint for Yuri to not stick up his middle finger at the woman. Fighting with the neighbors yet again wouldn’t win him any points in the inevitable argument he’d be having with his grandfather a few hours from then. 

 

The patter of paws, along with a high pitched mewling sound, could be heard as Yuri shoved open the front door. “Masha!” Yuri crowed, leaning down to scoop up the chubby cat. Masha was the fully-grown, slightly obese, Himalayan cat that Yuri’s mother had bought as a gift for him back when he was younger. She was getting older and beginning to show her age in the grayish hair on her face. As much as she adored Yuri more than anyone else, she despised being held and began to struggle after only a few seconds of nuzzling. “You big baby,” Yuri laughed before mercifully setting Masha on the floor. The cat rubbed lovingly against Yuri’s calf. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Yuri grumbled, kneeling next to the cat in order to speak directly to her. “Grandpa’s going to kill me when that witch tells him about the bike.” 

 

Masha’s squeaky meow was response enough for Yuri. 

 

“Whatever, it’s worth the lecture. You should meet Altin. He’s kind of a weird guy. I mean I’ve barely spent ten minutes with him but he seems like our kind of person. Doesn’t waste time getting in my face just to spew stupid shit. Right, Masha?” Yuri mused. “Unlike  _ most  _ people we know.” 

 

Yuri made his way up the stairs to his bedroom to wait out the hour or so before his grandfather got home. Passing a mirror in the hallway, he did a double take. Fuck, he thought. How could Altin not have mentioned the terrible helmet hair that had been conjured atop his head? And how was still able to look at him with that eternally emotionless expression? Little baby hairs stuck up all around his forehead, and the damp, lopsided bun had frizzy bits of half-dried hair poking out. 

 

In his room, Yuri sat on his bed with a wide-toothed comb, finding himself once more stuck untangling his hair. Masha had slowly but surely bumbled her way up the stairs to join him. It wasn’t unusual for Yuri to spend most of his time alone in his bedroom, even when the rest of the house was empty. And he wasn’t  _ alone _ , Yuri thought to himself. He had Masha. She was good company. She never teased him or didn’t take him seriously, nor did she hound him with questions he didn’t feel like answering. 

 

“Good girl,” Yuri crooned when the fluffy cat pressed herself against his thigh as she curled up. Though Yuri himself would willingly admit he was rather cat-like in his behavior and personality, the biggest thing he had in common with his pet was a love for naps. Eyes heavy, Yuri leaned back against his pillow. How many times, Yuri wondered, was he going to fall asleep this afternoon? He was once more grateful for Altin’s assistance in getting home. His bed was much more comfortable than dozing on a park bench in broad daylight. 

 

For the next hour or so, Yuri drifted in and out of a comfortable sleep. In comparison to the temperature outside, the coolness of the house was heavenly. Yuri knew that he should be working on homework, or throwing his practice clothes into the washing machine to keep them from stinking up his bag, but his motivation had been left behind on the field at practice. 

 

Soon enough, the sound of the front door opening shook Yuri from his nap limbo. “Yuri Plisetsky!” Nikolai Plisetsky called out from the bottom of the stairs. Yuri’s grandfather sounded eerily similar to Mrs. Petrov when he used Yuri’s full name. The two elderly neighbors had a strangely extensive amount of things in common. Both Russian immigrants, they spoke with similar accents and both occasionally stumbled on English words. 

 

“Oh, fuck,” Yuri sighed. “What?” 

 

“Come down here and tell me why Mrs. Petrov next door is complaining about you again,” Yuri’s grandfather sounded collected, as always. Maybe, Yuri thought, that witch didn’t mention the bike at all!

 

“I lost my temper with her nosing into my business again,” Yuri started as he descended the staircase. “Can’t she just stay inside like every other  _ normal  _ family on this block?” 

 

“She’s allowed to do as she pleases, just like you,” Nikolai lectured. “And what’s this I hear about you and a motorbike?” Yuri froze at the bottom of the stairs, cursing internally. 

 

“I -” 

 

“Is there any truth to her story?” Yuri’s grandfather folded his arms and squinted at his grandson. Yuri was wracking his brain for an excuse, but came up empty. He certainly couldn’t lie when there was a somewhat credible witness. 

 

“He offered, I didn’t want to sit and wait -”

 

“I understand that, but I wish you would think before you make dangerous choices. The worry you cause me! Do you even know the boy who the bike belonged to? Mrs. Petrov said,” Nikolai paused. “Well, she said he looked like a ‘thug’”, but I can’t imagine that’s an appropriate way to describe a person these days.” 

 

“I know him,” Yuri muttered. It was half true. If Yuri was the friendly type, he was sure he’d have met Altin before that afternoon. “He’s on the football team.” 

 

“Since when do you spend your time with,” The millisecond-long pause between Nikolai’s words aggravated Yuri. “The football team?” 

 

“Since when do I spend my time with anyone?” Yuri muttered.

 

“Yuri,” Nikolai seemed to be at his wits end. 

 

“I’m sorry, alright? I know I shouldn’t have done it,” Yuri relented. Nikolai sighed. 

 

“Alright. Just don’t let me catch you with something like that again. If I find out you’re making a habit of this, there will be consequences. I hope you had the sense to wear a helmet.” 

 

Yuri was about to scoff and roll his eyes, but he thought better of it. Fighting with his grandfather, even when the issues were as insignificant as getting a ride on a motorcycle, was always an emotionally exhausting ordeal if it was allowed to escalate. After all, if Yuri hurt his relationship with his grandfather, there was no one else. This type of thinking weighed on Yuri more than he’d ever admit aloud. 

 

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. It was a one time thing. And yes, a helmet was involved.” 

 

“I’m glad to hear it. Why don’t you come help me make dinner? Does that sound alright?” Nikolai asked. He was trying to make amends, Yuri observed with relief. Though his temper flared hotly, Yuri never wanted there to be a day that his grandfather didn’t ask for Yuri to help him, or to spend time with him. 

 

After a successful meal, Yuri headed back upstairs. Masha was somehow still sound asleep on his bed. Lying on the floor was Yuri’s backpack that he had discarded carelessly earlier. With a huff, he wrestled the zipper open and tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket near his closet. Underneath the clothes, folders of assignments glared up at Yuri. He was aware that his classes would be harder and more time consuming when he was in his next year, but the pointless worksheets and papers and tests he was assigned infuriated him beyond belief. Ballet and cheer were the only things Yuri wanted to do with his time in high school. Couldn’t he just show up for cheer practice and bypass the rest? Yuri thought as he yanked a navy blue binder out of the mess of his book bag. The two assignments that were due the next morning were in geometry and writing. The ease of simply reading and annotating a mindless short story appealed to Yuri over a page of problems, so he tossed away his math folder and started on the stapled packet his instructor had handed out.

 

By the time Yuri had powered through his assignments, it was nearly seven in the evening. Summer had yet to migrate completely, leaving the sky with about an hour before dark. Yuri’s muscles still throbbed from practice, but he was itching to move. With his door open he could hear the television playing in the living room, his grandfather likely dozing in front of it. Yuri’s green eyes zeroed in on the red and white Nikes at the bottom of his closet. Enough daylight for a quick run, Yuri thought to himself. He needed to do something or another. Without a distraction, his mind kept wandering to places it shouldn’t. For some reason, he couldn’t get his encounter with the running back of the football team out of his head. Yeah, Yuri thought, they guy was hot, anyone with functioning eyesight could see that. What had he babbled to Masha about earlier? That Altin was “their type”? Yuri didn’t even really know what his “type” consisted of. 

 

In an attempt to banish the thoughts, Yuri pulled on a pair of shorts, crammed his running shoes onto his feet and took off down the stairs and out the door. “I’m going for a run, Grandpa,” He called as he breezed out onto the wooden porch. When he’d last stood out here, Altin had been spewing off about how he “had been meaning to introduce himself” and how Yuri was “interesting”. What the hell did he mean by that? Yuri didn’t even know the guy’s first name. Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing, but damn he was annoyed! Christ, Yuri grumbled internally, no one knows how to communicate. Viktor and his stupid spewing of fantasies, Altin with his cryptic goodbyes. Idiots! 

 

Yuri hit the pavement at a steady jog, the evening breeze allowing the silky material of his shorts to cling to his pale legs. Each time a foot made impact with the ground, Yuri felt a release of energy. 

 

A step. Stupid Mrs. Petrov.

 

A step. Stupid Viktor.

 

A step. Stupid Yuuri Katsuki. 

 

A step. Stupid Mila. 

 

A step. Stupid Altin. 

 

Those football morons better get their shit together, Yuri thought, and win the game tomorrow. If he had to deal with the other team’s cheer squad in his face, he wouldn’t let Viktor drag him away from skirmishes like he did last year. 

 

As Yuri moved further and further from his own home and into his neighborhood, he felt vibrations from his pocket against his thigh. The first time it buzzed, Yuri ignored it, caught up in the feeling of pushing his already-tired muscles. But as he ran, the phone continued to vibrate periodically. 

 

When the phone reached its tenth consecutive notification, Yuri skidded to a halt, angrily ripping the phone from his pocket. 

 

“What the fuck,” he muttered as he squinted at the screen. “Had better be a goddamn emergency.” 

 

Viktor’s name, haphazardly entered in all lowercase letters, appeared ten separate times on his phone screen. Yuri groaned as he scrolled by each message before opening the conversation. 

 

_ Yuri a little birdy told me something tonight.  _

 

_ I’m hurt you didn’t tell me this on your own...  _

 

_ I had to hear it from JJ Leroy of all people! _

 

Yuri’s nose immediately crinkled when he read JJ’s name. That stupid, loud-mouthed moron, always bothering and teasing Yuri about anything and everything. From his overly dramatic door holding, to the idiotic pet names, Yuri couldn’t stand to be in JJ’s presence for more than a few moments. 

 

_ I thought we stuck together :( _

 

_ Since when do you hang out with Otabek Altin?? _

 

“Otabek!” Yuri shouted aloud to the empty street. That was the guy’s name! God, how could Yuri have forgotten that one. Unless, of course, he had never learned it in the first place. Which was entirely possible.  

 

_ You’ve always told me you hate all the football players!! _

 

_ And you yell at me for liking Yuuri! _

 

_ Yurio you little hypocrite ;) _

 

What the fuck? Yuri gaped at the messages. Did Viktor think that he and Otabek Altin were a thing? Christ, he’d just gotten a ride home. How did Viktor find out, anyway? Even worse, how the fuck did JJ know any of Yuri’s business? He thought, fuming. 

 

_ Yuri stop ignoring me! _

 

_ Does your grandfather know you’re riding a football player’s motorcycle after practice in the evenings?  _ _ ( ‾ʖ̫‾) _

 

Yuri saw red at the final text message, his fingers moving at light speed to produce a response. 

 

_ jesus christ im not fucking the guy it was a ride home. and who even told you and jj about it, you two need to mind your own business  _

 

After hitting send, he debated standing around and waiting for Viktor’s reply. Yuri hopped a few times in place and elected to continue his jog. His footfalls were even more full of irritation than before. That witch next door, and now Viktor! Who would do him a favor and stay out of his business for once? They need their own lives, Yuri thought. 

 

His feet took him through the aging neighborhood, past couples going for evening walks, owners bringing their dogs for runs before bed, and children playing in yards. The mild weather had everyone outside until sunset, Yuri included. The rest of his run was dedicated to imagining various scenarios in which he put JJ and Viktor, and anyone else who bothered him with their nosiness, into their place.

 

When he had circled back to his own house, Yuri finally allowed himself to check his phone again. Thankfully, Viktor had limited himself to only two text messages. 

 

_ Idk how JJ found out. I’m pretty sure he and Otabek have mutual friends though. They’re both on the team! Maybe he told him.  _

 

_ And don’t be so crass Yuri, I’m only looking out for you! _

 

Did Otabek go babbling that he and Yuri had been together or something? Otabek didn’t seem like the type. Yuri didn’t know why he was feeling so secretive, he had said it  himself: it was just a ride home. 

 

_ you and that brat mila are always bothering me, not looking out for me. i can handle myself THANK YOU  _

 

Yuri promise himself that not only would be the last text he’d send to Viktor that night, but also the last on the subject of Otabek Altin and his stupid motorbike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ur probably thinking: wow this seems very american. and ur right! i am in fact very american so that would be why. also i do not cheer nor do i play football so. make of that what you will :-) 
> 
> anyway thanks for reading and leaving comments, i really love looking through them!


	3. Chapter 3

On Friday the school hallways were an ocean of red and gold. In Yuri’s opinion, athletics were taken much too seriously by both the students and staff. Part of him was almost disgusted at the resulting spirit that filled his school almost every Friday during football season. Whenever he tried to voice his disdain, anyone listening would bemoan the irony of a cheerleader’s annoyance at school spirit. 

 

The cheer squad, of course, participated in the madness. They donned their uniforms for the entire school day. Practically all of the squad members made an effort to look as put-together as possible. Mila, for example, had her wavy red hair in twin buns atop her head and matte eyeshadow strategically smeared across her eyelids. That morning, she had sent Yuri a mirror selfie on Snapchat, makeup laid out across her bathroom counter. Yuri actually cracked a smile at the caption of the image. 

 

_ You know my face is gonna be beat!!!  _

 

Yuri wasn’t exactly on the same page. He didn’t like anyone dictating what he should or shouldn’t wear, and each time the squad was instructed to wear uniforms, Yuri had to keep himself from pitching a fit. It wasn’t that he found the uniform uncomfortable or ugly, he just hated not being able to choose his clothes for the day. Self expression had always been important to Yuri, and being required to wear a uniform outside of practice, games, or competition felt like a violation of that. 

 

Still, Yuri played nicely and wore the black legging-like pants and the red and gold polyester shirt. He refused, however, to take the time to do his hair up in a bow before the game had even started. Instead, his messy, snarled hair was twisted into a bun on the back of his head. He’d woken up feeling incredibly groggy, and his body practically rejected anything that wasn’t his pajamas. By the time Yuri sulked into his first hour class, the day was already feeling too long. 

 

First hour health was the only period Yuri shared with Mila. Their differing ages didn’t allow many opportunities to take the same classes. Yuri was partially relieved by this, as he wasn’t sure how much of Mila’s energy and personality he could handle outside of cheer and social media. However, despite her penchant for mischief and teasing, she was one of the few people who he could carry a conversation with. Mila entered the room a few seconds after Yuri. The moment his fellow cheerleader noticed him slumping into his chair, she immediately cornered him. 

 

“Yurotchka! We look so cute and matchy!” Mila sat on his desk, entirely too close for Yuri’s comfort. 

 

“Of course we look matchy, we’re wearing the same goddamn outfit. Can I get some personal space please?” 

 

“I think the students and teachers of this school would be much more interested if we were wearing the  _ exact  _ same outfit,” Mila kicked her leg into the air and flicked the edge of her miniskirt. “Though I do think the girl’s uniform would suit you, don’t you agree? Dress code, where?” 

 

“Ach, don’t say shit like that! You’re a menace against this school, your miniskirt too. Again, personal space?”

 

“Take a selfie with me! Or wait,” Mila glanced around as she dragged Yuri up from his seat into a standing position. “Someone take our picture!” 

 

Another girl from the class accepted Mila’s cell phone and pointed the camera lens at the pair of cheerleaders. Mila threw her arm around Yuri’s shoulders and placed her other hand on her waist. “Would it kill you to smile, Yuri?”

 

“Fine,” Yuri grumbled, managing a half-smirk. He wrapped his arm around Mila’s waist and leaned in, using his free hand to throw up a peace sign. Heightwise, Mila dominated Yuri. The top of his head came up near her nose, giving the female cheerleader the perfect position to lean her head atop Yuri’s. The loose bits of hair hanging from her space buns tickled Yuri’s cheek as they held the pose. 

 

“You two are adorable!” The girl taking the photo sighed. 

 

“I’m Instagramming this if it looks good, okay Yuri?” Mila said as she reached for her phone. “I need everyone to see my beautiful, talented son. They need to know how proud I am of him!” 

 

“Oh my -” Yuri grunted. “I’m not your son! See if I ever pose for you again!” 

 

“Oh, Yuri!” Mila protested dramatically. Yuri collapsed back into the plastic chair before he could be pulled into any other embarrassing social ritual. Instead of returning to her assigned seat, Mila sat back down on his desk. 

 

“I don’t have time to help you polish your broom,” Yuri grumbled. “Be gone, witch!” 

 

“Don’t talk to your mother like that!” Mila pouted. “Viktor informed me of something very interesting today before classes started!” Yuri gulped, already knowing what the onslaught of questions would relate to. “Since when are you and Otabek Altin talking? I didn’t know you had an interest in modern art.”

 

“Modern - what the fuck are you talking about?” Yuri asked, confused. 

 

“You know, a modern work of art. He’s a literal Renaissance treasure. A masterpiece. So hot,” Mila rambled. “Has been, since like, freshman year. You better be getting that!” She clicked her tongue suggestively. 

 

“I’m getting nothing! Why does no one believe that he just gave me a ride home? Why is my life so interesting to you sheep?” 

 

“‘Sheep?’” Mila gaped at him before choking on a giggle. “Did he really just drive you home? Oh, Vitya made it sound so much more interesting.” 

 

“That shithead,” Yuri muttered. “I already told him it was nothing.” 

 

“Oh, Yuri,” she repeated, “You’re even more naive than I thought you were. What an opportunity to be wasted on you! If Otabek Altin offered me a ride on his motorcycle, _ I _ wouldn’t be taking it for granted!” 

 

“You’re so thirsty,” Yuri accused Mila. “Do you know how tired I am of hearing about your never-ending quest for dick?”

 

“Uh, to clarify, dick is not the only goal of my quest. Dick is simply something one may find along the way,” Mila explained, seeming to ignore the first half of his comment. “Was it hot, to ride on the back of his bike like that, though? Were you scared? Did you hang onto him? Oh my  _ God _ .” She was clearly working herself up over it. As much as Yuri hated to admit it, she was kind of right. Looking back, the interaction did feel  _ charged _ , almost. But no, he was probably imagining things. Why was he always letting that hag plant her thoughts into his head?

 

“It was fine. It wasn’t scary,” Yuri fibbed slightly, trying not to remember the feeling of leather against his hands and wind against his face. Luckily, the bell that indicated the beginning of the period rang, and the teacher made his way into the room. Mila leapt from her place on Yuri’s desk. 

 

“You better seriously spill at the game tonight. If I’m going to live vicariously through you, I’m going to need every detail.” 

 

Yuri just slammed his head against the table, unable to come up with a response that would articulate exactly how he felt about Mila and her meddling. 

 

The rest of Yuri’s day was significantly less eventful. School had been in session for almost two weeks, and most of the student body was beginning to get used to the shift in schedule. Still, Yuri longed for the freedom of summer. He missed the time when he could spend his days with Minako at the ballet studio, or playing video games in the time he wasn’t training for either of his sports. Even early morning cheer practices were something Yuri could look back upon with fondness.

 

When it came time for the game, Yuri’s grandfather dropped him off at the stadium doors. 

 

“Do well tonight, and have fun,” Nikolai told Yuri, his face adorned with a warm smile that he reserved just for his grandson.

 

“I will, thank you for driving me!” Yuri shut the door and turned to look at the large building. Other students who had reason to arrive early were trickling into the stadium. Parked near the entrance, a familiar black motorcycle was accompanied by an even more familiar Otabek Altin, who was dressed in dark athletic wear that matched the bike. The dark haired junior was rummaging through a drawstring bag, seemingly searching for something. The sight of Otabek and his bike did its best to bring Yuri’s mind down the rabbit hole of analyzing the previous day’s events. Steeling himself, Yuri walked toward the nearest entrance. As he drew closer, Otabek looked up from his bag and gave Yuri a nod of acknowledgement.

 

“Hey,” Yuri said as he passed. Instead of staying near the bike, Otabek tightened the strings on his bag and began walking in time with Yuri. Oh, what the fuck? Yuri thought. Why was he following? Was Yuri supposed to say anything? He’d already said something! It was on Otabek now! 

 

“Think we’ll win today?” Otabek asked, both interrupting Yuri’s internal panic and solving his internal dilemma. 

 

“I - maybe, if you guys pull your shit together and Katsuki gets his ass in gear,” Yuri scoffed, automatically choosing a biting response. Otabek huffed a laugh. When Yuri glanced over at the other boy, their eyes locked. Otabek had already been staring at him as they walked. Yuri’s gaze darted away, uncomfortable with the intense look that always seemed to be present on Otabek’s face. “Why are you staring at me?” Yuri asked, always ready to escalate a situation and cause a scene if the opportunity presented itself. Part of him couldn’t help but still be suspicious of Otabek Altin. Very few people showed random interest in Yuri, and the ones who did were easily scared off with a few choice insults. Otabek, however, didn’t seem fazed by Yuri’s callousness. He simply looked away, electing not to answer the question. 

 

The two boys were quiet until they reached the locker area of the stadium. Yuri’s locker was number 128. It sat in a slightly isolated area, not terribly far from Otabek’s. Yuri spun the combination lock until it unlatched and violently threw his bag inside the locker. He was already dressed for the game; the only thing that needed to be fixed up was his hair. It was still in the tangled bun from earlier that day. Yuri dug a brush from his bag and started untangling. 

 

“Do you take ballet lessons from Minako Okukawa?” Otabek abruptly broke the silence, not bothering to turn away from his locker to look at Yuri when he spoke.  

 

“Yeah. How’d you know that?” Yuri asked with a frown, unsure of how to feel about someone knowing his life’s details without any explanation. He swept his now neat hair up into a high ponytail and secured it with an elastic, tugging each half in order to tighten the hairstyle. 

 

“Sometimes I pick up my sister from the studio. She takes lessons too. I thought I recognized you when you started at the high school last year,” Otabek replied as he swapped his combat boots for a pair of cleats. 

 

“And it took you this long to ask me about it?” Yuri asked doubtfully.  

 

“You’re pretty intense, Yuri,” Otabek observed with a noncommittal shrug, as if intensity made a full year of radio silence any more acceptable. “Anyway, my sister has thought the world of you since she started dancing a few years ago. Her first session on Saturdays was right before yours.”

 

“Really?” Yuri’s face flushed as he fumbled with his hair bow. Otabek made a sound of confirmation. Some ballerina kid looked up to him? Yuri was shocked. He’d hardly ever talked to anyone but Minako at the ballet studio, especially since he’d begun private lessons in place of group classes last year. “I thought you said I was ‘interesting’ or whatever,” Yuri cracked a smile, beginning to let his guard down for a moment. Learning about Otabek’s sister made the entire situation a little less strange for him. 

 

“Then there are two reasons I wanted to talk to you,” Otabek finally looked up and made eye contact with Yuri. “Friends?” 

 

Yuri gaped at him. Was it that simple? One word and Yuri was expected to...What? Spend time with Otabek? Be nice to him? Text him? Those were things friends did, Yuri supposed. His experience in the area was limited to his tense interactions with Mila, Viktor, and a few others. Unfortunately, stewing over a lack of experience in friendship was not an answer, and Otabek was waiting for one. 

 

“I guess,” Yuri replied, doing his best to sound self-assured despite being entirely out of his depth.

 

“Good,” Otabek smiled, a small upturn of one side of his mouth. It was the first time Yuri had seen him do so. “Do you need a hand?” Otabek asked, nodding towards Yuri’s hair that was tangled in the glittering red bow. 

 

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” His face heated at the idea of Otabek fixing his hair. It was too much, too close, too personal for Yuri. Even if it was a newly-declared friend making the offer. With a bit of yanking, he was able to free the bow from his hair and twist it into the proper knot.

 

Before Yuri could over analyze, he proposed an idea to Otabek. “You should let me meet your sister. You know, if she admires me so much,” Yuri said. Otabek did not immediately reply. “Only if you want, though,” Yuri backtracked, annoyed at himself for making assumptions about what his now-friend thought of him. 

 

“No, that’s great. She’ll love it,” Otabek’s half smile returned once more, the brightness of the expression extending to his brown eyes. 

 

“Yeah?” Yuri asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Otabek answered. 

 

“Hell yeah!” A voice yelled into the locker room as the door spontaneously flew open with a bang. Yuri recognized the speaker at once.

 

“Fucking hell,” Yuri grumbled as JJ Leroy walked around the corner. 

 

“Why aren’t you dressed, man?” JJ asked Otabek, who had yet to put on his shoulder pads and jersey. “Warm ups are starting soon,” JJ turned to face Yuri. “Princess! I didn’t see you there.”

 

“You call me that again and I’ll punch your teeth out, douchebag,” Yuri snarled before turning on his heel and flouncing out of the locker room. 

 

“Aw, c’mon! What did I do?” JJ called as Yuri rounded the corner. 

 

Way to ruin a nice moment, Yuri thought. He couldn’t stand to be anywhere near JJ. JJ and his big-headedness. No one cares if you’re a wide receiver, Yuri wanted to shout in the football players face. No one cares if you can run a six minute mile! Not only was Yuri stuck seeing him from afar at games and practice, but JJ’s girlfriend was on the cheer squad as well. Therefore, the whipped idiot was always skulking around the cheerleaders and acting as if he and Yuri were thick as thieves. Everyone was always trying to pin little pet names onto Yuri, and JJ’s were the worst. 

 

“Princess” was common. “Sweetheart” made Yuri’s skin crawl. “Kitten” had Viktor grabbing Yuri by the shoulder to keep him from lunging at the laughing idiot. 

 

Leaning against the wall next to the door, Yuri took deep, calming breaths. The door was still open, preventing him from being completely cut off from the conversation going on in the locker room. 

 

“He’s always yelling at me,” JJ whined to Otabek. Viktor had mentioned that the two boys knew each other, but had he mentioned if they were friends? Yuri couldn’t recall. 

 

“You annoy him,” Otabek replied tonelessly. Takes a real genius to see that, Yuri thought bitterly. 

 

“I was just teasing!” JJ defended. “Come on, man. It’s not that serious.” 

 

“Whatever,” Otabek said. A locker was slammed. Footsteps approaching the doorway could be easily heard. Yuri didn’t make any effort to move. When Otabek rounded the corner, he didn’t seem at all shocked that the sophomore was still present. In the moment Yuri had been gone, Otabek had speedily put on his shoulder pads and jersey. “Ready for the game?” The taller boy asked. 

 

“The real question is, are you?”

 

“I am,” Otabek jerked his head towards the doors, a motion meant to encourage Yuri to follow him out of the building. 

 

“Let’s hope the rest of your meathead teammates are too then,” Yuri laughed, relieved that Otabek wasn’t annoyed at him for the slight eavesdropping. Even though Otabek had only said about three words himself. 

 

“JJ really bothers you, doesn’t he?” Otabek asked without preamble. Yuri ground his teeth. 

 

“He’s a piece of shit,” Yuri explained. “You two are friends though, right? I’m sure you know even better than I do.” 

 

“We talk,” Otabek shrugged. “We’re both on the team.” 

 

“He’s a piece of shit,” Yuri repeated. Otabek looked at him with an expression Yuri couldn’t quite understand. 

 

“He’s not my first choice for people to hang out with,” The pair stepped into the sunlight.  “But his intentions are good, even if his social skills aren’t. He doesn’t mean any harm.” 

 

“Hmph,” Yuri scoffed, not quite buying into Otabek’s explanation. 

 

When a figure scampered around Yuri’s left side, the black undercut helped to identify JJ before he even turned around to jog backwards. 

 

“You two better hurry up!” JJ hollered. “Warm ups started five minutes ago, you know!” 

 

“Ah,” Otabek said at the same time Yuri whispered “fuck” under his breath. They must have spent more time in the locker room than Yuri thought. Both broke out into a jog, not looking forward to the imminent lecture from their respective coaches. 

 

“I’ll see you -” Otabek started when it became apparent that their paths would have to go in opposite directions. 

 

“Yeah -” Yuri said, effectively cutting off the football player. Otabek simply nodded and took off in the other direction at a dash. 

 

Yuri could hear Mila’s cry of “Yurotchka!” even as he faced away from her, watching Otabek and JJ join the rest of their team. After a few seconds, Yuri turned around and made his way to the group of cheerleaders. 

 

“Your bow is crooked, Yuri,” Mila reached over to tug on the hairpiece. “That’s not like you. Distracted?” 

 

“No,” Yuri grunted. “In a hurry. Mind your own business.” 

 

Mila tutted in response as she gave the neatened ribbon a final tug. 

 

The game would go surprisingly well. The opposing team for the night was one of the area’s better ones, and most of the students knew that a win would not be easy. Yuri  spent the time between, and sometimes during, cheers ignoring Mila’s questions about Otabek and Viktor’s complaints about Yuuri Katsuki. “Instead of whining about your stupid crush, can you focus on holding me up?” Yuri snapped at Victor during one particular lift. Yuri was distracted himself, and he didn’t want to make it worse with distracted bases. 

 

Yuri’s distraction stemmed from the game itself. Since he'd begun to pay more attention to what was happening on the field, he could pick out exactly four players on the team.  Even without the last names being visible on the backs of the jerseys, Otabek, JJ, and Yuuri were easy to pick out if he focused. The fourth, Yuri had always been able to identify. Sara Crispino, the only girl on the team that year, was easy to place due to the ponytail that laid against her back and caught in the wind as she ran. 

 

“How’s that for modern art?” Yuri pointed at Sara’s black hair that stuck to her forehead with sweat. 

 

“Don't tease, Yuri. She's gorgeous whether she's disgustingly sweaty or not. Where have you been?” Mila looked at Yuri incredulously. The exchange would evolve into a full on argument over whether or not sweatiness could be considered attractive in and of itself, and whether or not a person could be attractive despite being drenched in sweat. 

 

When the buzzer rang out at the end of the final quarter, scoreboard displaying point majority in favor of the home team, the crowds of people erupted into cheers. The players threw arms around each other in celebration before making their way off the field.

 

Later, when Yuri passed the group of players on his way out of the locker rooms, Otabek’s baritone voice called his name. Yuri turned too quickly, his blond ponytail giving him a little whip in the face. He spit out a few hairs as Otabek made his way over.

 

“Guess we pulled our shit together after all, hm?” Otabek said, almost smugly. The eyebrow tilt made another appearance as his hand raised for a low high-five. 

 

“Guess you did,” Yuri reached over to slap the offered hand. 

 

“I meant to ask; do you have plans for tomorrow afternoon?” Otabek asked, seeming to suddenly remember something. 

 

“Saturdays are my day off, actually,” Yuri answered, surprising himself with the immediate, honest response. 

 

“Would you want to come meet my sister then?” Otabek asked, a slight, fond smile on his face. “I texted our parents about it at half time and I was told she is... very interested in the proposition.” 

 

“I - yeah!” Yuri nodded, a rush of excitement coursing through him. He’d forgotten about the conversation regarding Otabek’s sister until then, but a small part of him was elated at the thought of talking with a younger, less experienced ballet student. 

 

“Yeah?” Otabek asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri repeated. “Oh, I’ll give you my number and we can make a plan tomorrow morning.” 

 

“My phone’s in my locker,” Otabek remembered, seeming annoyed with himself. 

 

“Do you have a pen?” Yuri asked, looking around before locating one on a clipboard that sat atop a folding chair. “Here, I’ll write it on your arm,” Yuri held his hand out until Otabek gave him his wrist. Yuri scratched the numbers into Otabek’s toned forearm. “Don’t wash it off.”

 

“Nice,” Otabek admired the black scrawl crawling up his arm. “I’ll call you.”

 

“Call me?” Yuri laughed. “Text me that shit, what is this, 2006?” 

 

The half smile flickered across Otabek’s face once more. “Alright, Yuri.” 


	4. Chapter 4

When Yuri asked his grandfather for permission to spend part of the day at Otabek’s house, he expected to face an argument. Instead, Nikolai just sighed and muttered: “‘A one-time thing’, wasn’t that what you called it?” When Yuri tried to explain the situation more fully, his grandfather simply waved him off. “Are you making good choices?” Yuri had vehemently nodded, ready to list off Otabek’s known good characteristics at the drop of a hat. “Then I suppose it’s fine for you to go to your friend’s house,” Nikolai relented. Yuri’s face lit up at the answer and he found himself digging in his pocket for his phone so he could text Otabek. “On one condition,” Yuri’s grandfather continued. “I don’t want you riding that motorcycle."

 

Yuri groaned. “How else am I supposed to get there? I can’t drive.”

 

“I can drive you. Or he can pick you up in something other than a bike,” Nikolai replied firmly, effectively ending the conversation. His tone implied that this was not up for discussion, and Yuri knew when to quit. 

 

About an hour after Yuri had returned home the night before, an unidentified number had sent him a brief, two-word message.

 

_ It’s Otabek. _

 

The conversation didn’t last long, as both boys were tired after the highly active evening. After the conversation with his grandfather the next morning, Yuri tapped out a message, unsure of how to explain the deal he and Nikolai had come up with. He settled for the boring truth.

 

_ hey so my grandfather is fine with me hanging out with you, but he doesn’t like your bike (long story) so he can drop me off or something _

Otabek replied within three short minutes.

 

_ I can borrow my mother’s car if it’s an issue. _

 

_ you sure? _

 

_ Yes. How does 2 o’clock sound? _

 

_ thats fine _

 

Hours later, Yuri found himself sitting in the front seat of a Prius.

 

“You drive a motorcycle and your parents have a Prius?” Yuri laughed. “Is this not as funny to you as it is to me?”

 

“Practicality is more important when you’re not a sixteen-year-old high school student,” Otabek glanced pointedly at Yuri, defending his mother’s taste in vehicles.

 

As they drove, it became apparent that Otabek was from a different part of town than Yuri. Nikolai Plisetsky’s house in the southern end of the city was older. The houses around Yuri’s didn’t really complement one another. More often than not, the siding was faded and the driveways were filled with cracks and potholes. It wasn’t a bad area, but it certainly didn’t have the upper-middle-class appeal of the newer developments that Otabek was navigating through. It was strange, Yuri thought, that someone who looked like Otabek could emerge from such a polished area. His undercut and black clothes stood harshly against the sod-covered lawns that whizzed past the window as they drove 

 

“What’s your sister’s name?” Yuri asked, realizing Otabek had never dropped it in their brief conversations.

 

“Aisha,” Otabek replied. “She’s ten. But everyone once in awhile she acts like she’s fifty.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Most of the time she acts like a regular kid with no filter, but every once in awhile, she’ll say something wiser than anything my parents and I could come up with on our own,”  Otabek explained. “She’s great, you’ll like her.”

 

Yuri nodded, curiously observing the fondness that appeared in Otabek’s face when he talked about his sister.

 

“You remind me of her,” Otabek added.

 

“Huh? How so?” Yuri’s brow crinkled. “Ballet?”

 

Otabek didn’t answer right away, mulling over the question. Yuri turned to look out the window, pushing himself to be patient in waiting for the reply.

 

“She’s intense, like you. Passionate. She has a lot of energy,” Otabek said. Yuri looked back at the older boy. Eye contact wasn’t possible, however, as Otabek’s gaze was focused on the road as he spoke. “You’re more guarded than her. And angrier.”

 

“Hey,” Yuri warned. Otabek cracked a smile that assured Yuri he meant no harm.

 

“I’m not wrong and we both know it.”

 

“Fine,” Yuri sulked, annoyed that there was someone in the world who could effectively analyze him. The car slowed down near a white house with light colored bricks as  accents. “Is this it?” Yuri asked. Otabek nodded, parking along the side of the street. The pair stepped out of the car and into the afternoon light. It was fairly warm outside, comfortable enough to go without outer layers, but Yuri had still grabbed a hoodie before dashing out to meet Otabek.

 

The long concrete driveway leading up to the pristine home felt intimidating to Yuri, but Otabek began walking up without a second thought. Yuri stumbled a bit in his effort to follow. “Are your parents home?” Yuri asked, unsure if he was interested in meeting an entire family of people. That was not what he had agreed to.

 

“No,” Otabek answered. “My aunt is having a dinner tonight and the kids are not invited.”

 

“Are you a kid?” Yuri asked.

 

“According to my extended family, yes,” The tone of Otabek’s voice had shifted. It sounded similar to the way he uttered “whatever” to JJ in the locker room the day before. “They’re stuck in their ways.”

 

“What do you mean?” Yuri asked. He’d never really had anything more than his grandfather when it came to family. His mother was mostly out of the picture nowadays, preferring to keep her visits short, unexpected, and infrequent. His father was a subject that Yuri had learned not to touch. Before Otabek answered, he pulled a key chain out of his pocket and unlocked the front door.

 

“My parents and their family immigrated to the United States from Kazakhstan,” Otabek explained. “Sometimes it feels like they can’t decide which traditions to keep and which to forget.”

 

Yuri nodded thoughtfully as they stepped into the house. “I get that. My grandfather is from Russia.” 

 

Before the conversation could really take off, a childish female voice shouted from somewhere else in the house. “Beka! Is that you?”

 

“Yes,” Otabek answered, his voice no louder than what was necessary to carry throughout the separating rooms. The sound of feet scampering up the nearby flight of stairs became easier and easier to make out. “What were you doing in the basement?” Otabek asked as his sister came into view.

 

Aisha was on the smaller side for a girl her age, not unlike her brother. They looked similar, from the black hair and olive skin to their almond-shaped eyes. “Nothing, just looking for something,” She smiled, revealing teal braces on her top row of teeth. Her gaze flickered from her brother to Yuri. “Hi!”

 

“Hey,” Yuri said awkwardly. He didn’t have much experience with younger kids. Maybe he should have taken that into account before he agreed to talk with one.  

 

“Aisha, this is Yuri. Yuri, Aisha,” Otabek introduced.

 

“I know who he is, Beka!” Aisha giggled as she looked him up and down. “Why is your hair so long?” The question was directed at Yuri. “It wasn’t that long last time I saw you.”

 

“Because,” Yuri grunted. “I like it this way,” He was taken aback by the question. Hardly anyone argued with him about his somewhat impractical hairstyle choices anymore. It took ridiculous amounts of self-control to keep from stroking his hair self-consciously. He’d worn it down today, letting it fall against his upper back and shoulders.

 

“You look like a girl,” Aisha continued. Yuri crinkled his nose.

 

“ _ You  _ look like a girl,” Yuri snapped. Otabek made a sound like he was choking back laughter. 

 

“I  _ am  _ a girl!” Aisha laughed, covering her mouth as she did so.

 

“Don’t tease him, Aish,” Otabek chided. “You wanted to meet him so badly, don’t ruin it.”

 

“Alright, fine,” She relented, giving Yuri a final once over. “Well, are you going to show me ballet stuff?”

 

“Is that why I’m here?” Yuri asked.

 

“Well, since you moved your practice times at Minako’s, I haven’t seen you dance in forever. Teach me something you learn in fancy private lessons!”

 

Yuri scoffed. “Don’t be fooled. That old witch’s private sessions just give her more of an opportunity to snap at you and whine about her life. I know way too much about the bad dates she’s been on.”

 

Aisha burst into laughter before flinging herself onto the living room couch. Yuri’s criticisms of her ballet teacher appeared to be the key to the girl’s heart. Otabek took the open space on the couch and motioned for Yuri to sit in the nearby armchair. The girl had an arsenal of questions she wanted to ask Yuri. As they came one after another, Yuri was convinced she had a list hidden somewhere.

 

Why did he do cheerleading? Was he going to grow up to be a real ballerina? How did he and Otabek meet? Did he like football? How long had he been dancing? Why didn’t he cut his hair? Was he good at everything, or was it just cheer and ballet? Did he have a girlfriend? A boyfriend?

 

Halfway through the interrogation, the Altin’s home phone rang shrilly from the kitchen. “Who the hell still has a landline?” Yuri asked. 

 

When Otabek straightened up and made a move to answer it, Aisha leapt from her seat. “I’ve got it, Beka!” She yelped as she high-tailed it out of the room.

 

Yuri took the chance to raise an eyebrow at Otabek. “Beka?” He’d meant to bring up the nickname earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to do so in front of Aisha. 

 

A half smile appeared in response. “Otabek is a mouthful,” He explained. “Especially for little kids.”

 

“Does everyone call you that?” Yuri asked, feeling a certain fondness towards the little name.

 

“Not anymore. Mostly just Aisha. My dad doesn’t think a little kid’s nickname is appropriate now that I’m older.”

 

“Too much of a kid to go to an adult’s dinner but not kid enough to have a nickname?” Yuri teased. Otabek huffed out a laugh.

 

“I guess.”

 

“Hey, it’s cute,” Yuri continued, unable to gauge Otabek’s feeling towards the name. Yuri himself hated diminutives from anyone but his grandfather, but Otabek didn’t seem bothered. “There’s no sense in knocking it if you like it, right?” 

 

“You can use it too, if you want,” Otabek said, practically reading Yuri’s mind. 

 

“Yeah?” Yuri asked, his face heating slightly at the blatant invitation for familiarity. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

A silence stretched out a second or two too long before Aisha yelled from the other room. “Hey, mom wants to talk to you!” 

 

“That’s my cue,” Otabek said as he rose and made his way towards the kitchen. Yuri could hear the muffled voices of the siblings talking to each other after Otabek rounded the corner. Aisha scoffed particularly loudly before returning to the living room. 

 

“So,” she piped as she took her place back on the couch. Yuri felt cornered by the younger girl now that Otabek wasn’t in the room to keep her and her questions reigned. “Why’d you agree to come here?” 

 

“What?” Yuri asked, confused. What was she talking about?

 

“I mean what did Otabek do to get you to come talk to me?” Aisha prodded.

 

“What did Otabek -” Yuri squinted at her. “What do you - He didn’t do anything! Why do you think he -” 

 

“His friends hardly ever come over here! And if they do, they don’t talk to me. They just sit in his room downstairs,” She blew a gust of air at her forehead, causing her thick bangs to ruffle. “They just come take Beka and he doesn’t come home until late.” 

 

Shit, Yuri thought. What kind of jerkass friends did Otabek keep? Even Yuri, who despised the nattering of most children, could admit that Aisha was a sweet kid. Whoever Otabek hung out with, the least they could do was take a second to say hello to his sister! “Do you miss him or something?” Yuri asked, trying to understand the situation at hand. 

 

“No,” Aisha answered too quickly. “Well,” she started again with a sigh. “A little.” 

 

“That sucks,” Yuri replied, ever eloquent. 

 

“It does! So you better promise not to get him into more trouble, you hear me? And you better help me with ballet!” Aisha pointed a finger at him as she listed her demands. Yuri couldn’t help but find her attitude endearing. “And when you come to see me, it can’t be because Beka makes you!” 

 

“He never made me!” Yuri interjected. “It was  _ my  _ idea to come here.”

 

Aisha’s mouth opened and closed. “It was?” She asked, shades of pink dusting her tan cheeks. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri continued, annoyed that someone was trying to pin him as something he wasn’t. “He told me that you took Minako’s ballet class so I asked if I could meet you.” Aisha’s eyes widened. 

 

“Oh,” She said before bursting into the sunniest smile Yuri had ever seen on another human being. In that moment, Otabek appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. 

 

“Sorry about that. Our mother likes to check in on us sometimes,” he explained. 

 

“Us? Sometimes?” Aisha repeated sarcastically. “I can't take two steps out of this house without her and dad breathing down my neck!” 

 

“Aish,” Otabek chided. 

 

“But  _ you  _ get to come and go as you please! No one ever asks you what you're doing!”

 

“I'm seventeen and you're ten, don't forget that,” Otabek reminded his sister as he returned to the couch. 

 

“You just wait,” Aisha grumbled. “When I'm seventeen nothing will have changed.”

 

“Oh come on,” Otabek reached over to tug his sister’s braid. “Stop pouting, you know things won’t always be like this.” 

 

“Pfft,” Aisha sassed. Yuri was watching the conversation progress with wide eyes. The entire exchange reminded him so much of the arguments he once had with his grandfather. Maybe Otabek hadn’t been that far off when he’d described Yuri and Aisha as similar. 

 

“Don’t bother looking forward to getting older,” Yuri interrupted. “I’m sixteen and I feel just as stupid and out of control as I felt when I was ten. This shit’s overrated.” 

 

“Well maybe you’re just stupid and it has nothing to do with age!” Aisha burst into laughter. 

 

“Damn, you’re mean,” Yuri covered his heart with his hand in mock offense. He glanced over at Otabek, looking to gauge his response to the tone Yuri was taking with his sister. Otabek had already been looking at Yuri with a soft smile on his face. 

 

“She only teases you because she likes you,” Otabek told him. 

 

“Funny, that’s what Mila and Viktor are always telling me,” Yuri snorted. “‘We’re hurting you because we love you!’” He mocked Mila’s feminine voice. 

 

After that, the topic of conversation shifted from easy banter back to ballet. Yuri found himself demonstrating his left and right splits after Aisha had demanded to see them. 

 

“Wow,” Otabek observed. 

 

“What, football doesn’t require you to bend yourself in half? Why don’t  _ you  _ get down here and try it?” Yuri prodded, slightly embarrassed by his position on the living room floor. Otabek’s intense gaze didn’t help either. 

 

“I’ll have to pass on that one,” Otabek replied. “I think you have enough flexibility for both of us combined.” 

 

“Excuses, excuses,” Yuri grumbled as he leaned down to press his face into his extended leg. 

 

“Can you do center splits?” Otabek asked. 

 

“‘Can I do center splits,’” Yuri mocked in a poor imitation of Otabek’s baritone. “Of course I can do center splits, you watch.” 

 

Yuri adjusted his position to ensure that he could slide into the 180 degree split. Aisha made a sound of distress from somewhere outside Yuri’s line of sight. 

 

“I only have my right splits,” She complained, enamored with Yuri’s seemingly endless bendiness. 

 

“If you keep practicing the rest will come. It takes time,” Yuri assured her. 

 

It was an odd position for Yuri to find himself in. He’d never had anyone to teach or encourage, and the warm pride he was beginning to feel was completely foreign to him. 

 

As the afternoon wore on, Otabek began glancing towards the ornate analogue clock on the living room wall. 

 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Yuri asked sarcastically as he once more watched Otabek unlock his phone to check the time. 

 

“Jealous?” Aisha teased. 

 

“Did I ask you?” Yuri instinctively raised his middle finger at her. Who cared if she was only ten? She had more than enough attitude to take it, Yuri justified. 

 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” Otabek interrupted the two of them before they could really start snapping at each other. “But it’s getting late and I’d rather we not all be around when my parents come home.”

 

What did he mean by that? Yuri wondered. Did he not want his parents to know that Yuri had been here? Why? Would they disapprove of their son’s newfound friendship? 

 

“What time is it?” Yuri patted his pockets and located his phone. Normally, he was almost always glued to the screen, but it seemed that Aisha and Otabek were entertaining enough to keep his attention. 

 

“Almost seven,” Otabek answered without looking up from his phone. 

 

“Seven!?” Yuri exclaimed. He tore his phone from his pocket to determine whether Otabek was being truthful. 

 

“Time flies,” Otabek observed as Yuri confirmed the time on his own cell phone. There were no new notifications to display on Yuri’s screen. He was shocked that his grandfather hadn’t sent a single message to check up on him, even after almost five hours of silence on Yuri’s end. 

 

“Huh!” Yuri scoffed aloud. The man had made such a big deal about Otabek Altin, from the two of them hanging out to the stupid motorcycle. And yet he hadn’t come up with a  reason to harass Yuri while the boys were together? Maybe Yuri had misjudged his grandfather’s feelings toward the situation. 

 

“We should go...” Aisha trailed off. Otabek nodded at her suggestion and made a move to stand. “And get ice cream!” She finished, causing her brother to roll his eyes. 

 

“What we should be doing is taking Yuri home,” Otabek corrected. 

 

“He’s no fun,” Aisha muttered to Yuri from their place on the floor. “At least let me show him the rest of the house or something before he has to go!” 

 

“You can show him your room,” Otabek compromised. “But then we need to go. We can get ice cream next time.” 

 

“Fine!” Aisha agreed at the same moment Yuri smacked his lips in dissatisfaction. Some stupidly curious part of him was actually rather interested in seeing the rest of the Altin’s home. But still, next time? Yuri would never admit how happy it made him that Otabek believed there would be a next time. 

 

As Aisha dragged him down a hallway, Yuri noticed a plethora of photographs framed and hung on the walls. Noticing his interest, Aisha explained their presence. “Mom always makes us get photos taken every winter.” 

 

“For Christmas cards?” Yuri asked. He knew other families who sent the silly things in the mail every year. It was somewhat ridiculous to imagine he and his grandfather alone posing for yearly photos and sending out a card. What would it say? ‘Love from the Plisetskys’? More like love from the two that stuck around. 

 

“No, we’re Muslim,” Aisha informed him casually. 

 

“Oh,” Yuri answered, a bit surprised by the tidbit of information. He glanced at the family photographs once more. The woman he assumed was Otabek and Aisha’s mother had glossy black hair identical to her children’s. It hung in stylish waves above her shoulders. “Not to sound like the uneducated bastard that I am but don’t most women wear,” Yuri motioned around his head. “What’s it called?” 

 

“A hijab? Some do,” Aisha answered, sounding like she had this conversation more often than she’d like. “But no one in my family does.” 

 

“Huh,” was the sound that came out of Yuri’s mouth, ever articulate. 

 

“Do you go to church every Sunday?” Aisha asked, trying to help him understand. 

 

“Pfft,” Yuri scoffed. “No.” 

 

“But you still celebrate Christmas right?” She pressed on. 

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“So you’re a Christian.” 

 

“I guess, we’re just not that serious about it,” Yuri explained. 

 

“Then we aren’t so different from you,” Aisha concluded with a bright, braces-filled smile. "People make it way more complicated than it needs to be." She seemed happy to be finished with the particular topic of conversation. “Anyway, this is my room.” 

 

The bedroom was painted light blue and the leftover daylight from outside made it look bright and welcoming. “You’re much neater than I was at your age,” Yuri observed. “Fuck, you’re neater than I am now!” 

 

“Do you think I’d drag you up here if my room was messy?” Aisha asked. 

 

“I guess you have more shame than me,” Yuri concluded, wandering into the bedroom and looking around. On a dresser that was pushed against a wall sat a pair of pointe shoes. “Hey, what the fuck!” Yuri exclaimed. “You’re way too young to be going en pointe!”

 

“They’re not mine,” Aisha sighed in disappointment. “No one’s letting me until I’m at least twelve. Mom found them at the thrift store and thought having a pair would make me feel better.” 

 

“The thrift store? That’s stupid,” Yuri observed bluntly. “No one gets it, but at least they try I guess.”

 

“Yeah,” Aisha agreed simply as she sat on the edge of her paisley printed bedspread. Yuri flopped down onto the beanbag chair that sat in the corner of the small bedroom. “By  the way,” the ten-year-old began. “I’ve decided that even if you weren’t a ballerina, I’d probably still let you be Beka’s friend.” 

 

“Oh you’d  _ probably  _ let me?” Yuri smirked. “Does Beka know that you’re in charge of approving his relationships?” The nickname felt odd on Yuri’s tongue, despite Otabek not even being in the room to hear it. Aisha made no comment on the familiarity, but a hint of her blue braces was visible when she grinned. 

 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” She cackled. 

 

Before Yuri could get too comfortable on the beanbag, Otabek’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Are you two coming?” He asked. 

 

“Yeah!” Aisha answered. She bounced off the bed in the childishly energetic way kids did, and scampered out of the room, leaving Yuri to follow. 

 

Otabek stood waiting at the end of the hall as Yuri exited the room. “Thanks for coming over,” he said before looking expectantly at his sister. 

 

“Yeah, thanks,” she echoed. 

 

“It’s been real,” Yuri raised his hand for a high five from Aisha. She slapped his hand hard with a wide grin on her face. The sound of their palms hitting provided a satisfying slap. 

 

“Alright, are you good if I drive him home?” Otabek asked his sister. 

 

“I was fine when you did it four hours ago,” Aisha sassed. Otabek simply smiled good-naturedly. “Bye, Yuri. Come back soon!” Before Yuri could step towards Otabek, Aisha wrapped her arms around Yuri’s middle in a tight hug. At first, Yuri froze, shocked by the display of affection. However, after a moment, he relaxed and patted Aisha on the back. 

 

“I’ll see you soon, kid,” Yuri replied fondly. He hadn’t expected to be so enamored with Otabek’s sister, but she was far too clever and charming for anyone to dislike. Part of him knew that her approval didn’t mean much, but nonetheless he was proud that he’d won it. 


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Tuesday rolled around, the heat wave that Yuri’s town had been experiencing came to an end. Autumn was rolling in at full force and from the feeling of cool breezes to the crunch of leaves underneath his shoes, Yuri was in heaven. As much as he enjoyed the freedom of summertime, the humidity and sunburn that his fair hair and skin were forced to endure grated upon his nerves.

 

After being dropped off outside the high school by his grandfather, Yuri didn’t enter right away. Nikolai always insisted Yuri arrive early to class to ensure he would never be marked tardy. Unfortunately, the plan did not account for Yuri’s unusual case of fall fever. It also didn’t account for his frequent desire to skip class, but that was an entirely  different story. 

 

Yuri found himself wandering around the side of the school. Students were trickling into the side entrances at a lower rate than the doors that opened to the main parking lot. Behind the building, there was an ill-used baseball diamond accompanied by rusty bleachers. The whole thing was an eyesore. Baseball season wasn’t until spring, so the practice area tended to be empty around this time of year. As he rounded the corner of the building, Yuri wasn’t expecting the upperclassmen that were skulking around. 

 

Two boys and one girl stood, leaning against the dirty brick wall and passing a joint between them. Immediately, Yuri recognized the students standing closest to him. JJ and Isabella, the football and cheerleading duo stood before him, grinning towards one another. The one standing furthest away was turned in the other direction, his face obscured from Yuri’s line of sight. Yuri’s first instinct was to roll his eyes and turn in the other direction before JJ could get a word in. Clearly, the area was already occupied this morning, but before he could slink back around the corner, a voice called out to him. “Yuri!”

 

He recognized the low voice. After all, he’d heard it only a few days before. “Beka?” He asked, turning back to face the group. Sure enough, the boy whose face had been hidden was revealed to be the one and only Otabek Altin. Yuri hadn’t seen him since Saturday. They’d exchanged a few texts, but hadn’t had a face-to-face conversation in days. Yuri smirked a little at the situation before him. He hadn’t expected Otabek to be involved with that kind of thing. Despite the bike and black clothes, Otabek seemed pretty clean-cut. As far as Yuri was concerned, most boys who went out of their way to please their sisters and families weren’t the type to be smoking pot before school. Not that Yuri really cared, nor did he have anything against the drug itself. Half the kids in the school spent their time bragging about shit like this. Yuri never had opportunity to try it before, so he found himself without enough experience to form a real opinion on the matter. 

 

“So is Coach Yakov aware of what you two get up to behind the school at eight in the morning?” Yuri inquired with a teasing grin.

 

“Are you snitching or something?” JJ inquired as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

 

“No. Not my business,” Yuri’s voice turned harsher when he spoke to JJ. Of course that douchebag had to be hanging around, Yuri thought. He wasn’t entirely surprised that JJ and Otabek could be found together. Otabek had downplayed any relation the two had to one another, but it was clear they had been friendly in the past. 

 

“He’s a good man,” JJ told Otabek. Otabek nodded and laughed. His demeanor was much more relaxed than usual. Yuri found it a little off-putting but it was nonetheless entertaining to see Otabek laugh freely. 

 

“You guys know Yuri. We’ve recently become acquainted,” Otabek explained. 

 

“Good to see you, Princess!” JJ clapped a strong hand onto Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri froze and clenched his jaw at the too-familiar touching. “Oh shit, ow,” JJ snatched his hand back.  “I didn’t see your little...spiky things.” His palm had pressed against the little metal studs on the shoulder of Yuri’s t-shirt. 

 

“My bad,” Yuri gritted out, not sounding entirely apologetic. “Didn’t know you guys were that close,” his eyes darted to Otabek as he spoke. As if to make it even more clear, he jutted his chin at the boy who was now rubbing his hand where he’d slapped the studs. It couldn’t have hurt that much, Yuri thought. The studs weren’t sharp at all. Did being high affect the sensation? Yuri had no way of telling. 

 

“Do you want a hit?” Isabella asked as JJ passed her the joint. Yuri watched Isabella inhale. Why was she offering him anything? He’d barely spoken to her in the past, put off by her loud, PDA-filled relationship with JJ. 

 

“Wait, fuck. Is he a freshman?” JJ’s question was directed at Otabek. “We can’t smoke up a freshman, aren’t you like fourteen when you’re a freshman?” 

 

“I’m a sophomore,” Yuri snapped, annoyed that JJ couldn’t even bother to remember his age. It wasn’t as if this was the first time they’d ever met! “And I’m good.” 

 

Isabella closed her mouth and made a suppressed coughing sound as she attempted to pass the flickering roll of paper to Otabek. Otabek simply waved her away, focused on Yuri’s conversation with his friends. Instead, JJ took it once more. 

 

“How’d you two ‘become acquainted’?” Isabella mocked Otabek’s odd choice of words, eyes darting back and forth between the boys. 

 

“Well, Yuri’s on the cheer squad too. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And he does ballet with Aisha,” Otabek explained. “Sort of.” To Yuri’s relief, he didn’t mention the awkward ride home they had shared that first day. Of course, JJ already knew about it, but Yuri had no desire to share the story with Isabella. 

 

At the mention of Otabek’s sister, Yuri was suddenly wary of the students. He remembered her complaining about Otabek’s friends when he’d met her on Saturday. How stupid, he thought to himself, that a ten-year-old’s whining had more of an effect on his opinions than watching the idiotic couple smoke pot. 

 

“Sort of?” Isabella repeated.

 

“We take classes from the same school but we aren’t at the same level,” Yuri clarified. 

 

“Ballet, huh?” JJ asked with a mocking smile. “I bet that's a sight to behold.”

 

“It is,” Yuri stated, purposely keeping his tone level. Really, he thought his days of listening to his peers laugh over his sport of choice were over. It wasn’t as if he was the only male dancer at his studio, nor was he unathletic in any way. He’d proven time and time again that he was a force to be reckoned with in both cheer and ballet. 

 

“There’s nothing funny,” Otabek interjected before a real argument could arise. Yuri’s fiery glare shifted from JJ to his friend. He hoped that Otabek was remembering the day in the locker room. He’d clearly been slightly downplaying his relationship with JJ and by association, Isabella. “Is there?” Otabek asked JJ, eyes narrowed. 

 

“Nothing funny at all, sweetie,” JJ gave Yuri a saccharine smile. Yuri’s eyes rolled so far back into his head he would swear he could see his own thoughts flying through his brain.  

 

“Fascinating.  _ Unfortunately _ ,” Yuri started, stretching the word so it sounded as sarcastic as possible. “I actually need to be in first hour today. I’ll see you later.” Yuri walked away, aware he was being cold, but unable to make himself care. What did it matter to him who Otabek hung out with? JJ and Isabella! A tool and a bitch, Yuri thought to himself as he stretched the distance between himself and the other students.  

 

After a moment, the sound of someone speed walking along sidewalk reached Yuri’s ears. 

 

“Hey, Yuri, wait up,” Otabek’s voice called from behind him. 

 

“What?” Yuri asked, hoping he sounded composed. He knew it wasn’t  _ really  _ Otabek he was angry at. Of course Otabek could be friends with whoever he wanted, but that didn’t mean Yuri had to sit and listen to the likes of JJ and Isabella giggle and make fun of something he had a passion for. 

 

“I’m sorry about them. You know how they are. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time,” he explained as he caught up to the younger boy. 

 

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” Yuri insisted. 

 

“Hey,” Otabek caught Yuri’s arm and pulled him so they were facing one another. The tight grip prevented him from moving any further away. Yuri clenched his fist, but didn’t attempt to fight back. “Are you okay, or not?” 

 

Yuri released a breath and refused to look at Otabek. “I said I’m okay. It’s not a big deal. I’m just annoyed, that’s all. Wouldn’t you be?” 

 

“Yeah,” was Otabek’s single worded answer. Yuri rolled his eyes at the brevity of Otabek’s speech. “What’s your first class?” Otabek asked as he released Yuri’s arm. Apparently he was satisfied with Yuri’s dismissal of the issue. 

 

“Health,” he replied. The boys adjusted their positioning in order to walk side by side. 

 

“That’s on this side of the building, right?” Otabek asked. “I’ll walk with you.” 

 

Mila was going to love this, Yuri thought miserably. Part of him was elated to have Otabek accompany him. School was a lot less lonely now that he’d found someone he could tolerate. But he wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable embarrassment Mila would cause him when they arrived in the health classroom. 

 

Once inside the building, it was only a short walk down the hall to Yuri’s first hour class. Students were already taking their seats and at no surprise to Yuri, Mila stood outside the classroom. He watched her eyes light up as the boys drew closer. “Yurotchka!” She greeted him, smiling sweetly. Yuri’s face contorted into a snarl. He could see right through her, didn’t she know? “And Otabek, finally! I was so happy to learn that you two started talking!” 

 

“Otabek was just leav -” Yuri started. Otabek spoke at the same time. 

 

“That’s great. Nice to meet you.” 

 

Mila beamed as Yuri turned to glare at his friend. “So Viktor and I were talking,” Mila began. 

 

“Oh  _ fuck  _ no!” Yuri interrupted. He had no interest in where this conversation was going. 

 

“Yuri!” Mila scolded. “Quiet while the grown ups talk please!” She playfully squashed her hand into his face. Yuri quickly slapped it away. 

 

“Ach! Get your claws off me, bitch!” 

 

Before Yuri could really lay into her, a steady hand was placed on his shoulder. Yuri’s head spun towards Otabek, prepared to shout at him for the placating action. When they made eye contact, Yuri was surprised to see a look of concern instead of annoyance or anger. Fuck, why did he have to do that with his face, like he was going to ask him what was wrong or something? Yuri flushed at the way Otabek looked at him. 

 

With a deep breath, Yuri turned back to Mila. He plastered a neutral expression on his face and asked politely: “What... were you and Viktor talking about?”

 

Mila glanced back and forth between the boys before answering Yuri. “He wanted to ask Otabek about Yuuri Katsuki.”

 

Yuri groaned. He was tired of this subject already. 

 

“Yuuri?” Otabek repeated. 

 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Like he wanted to know what you know about him or something. Since you two play together and all,” Mila sounded only slightly interested. She didn’t care about Viktor and Yuuri, Yuri thought. She just wanted an excuse to bother him and Otabek! 

 

“I don’t know him well,” Otabek said. “I think his family owns a bed and breakfast somewhere around here. He keeps to himself. It’s sort of odd for a quarterback, but he plays  well. That’s what matters.” Otabek stated matter-of-factly.  

 

“God knows why anyone would want to stay at a bed and breakfast in  _ this  _ boring town,” Mila observed. “Well, thanks. I’m sure Viktor will appreciate that.” 

 

“You’re selling him out and you don’t even know it, Otabek,” Yuri informed him. 

 

“Oh Yurio, shush!” Mila chided.

 

“Yurio?” Otabek asked. Yuri slapped his palm to his forehead. 

 

“Isn’t it cute?” Mila asked, smiling knowingly at Yuri. “It’s easier to use a nickname than to mix him up with Yuuri Katsuki.” 

 

“Don’t  _ ever  _ call me that,” Yuri snarled at Otabek. “I hate it.” 

 

“Then I won’t,” Otabek reassured. 

 

“Oh, you two!” Mila interrupted. “I’ll take him from here. So sorry mummy couldn’t be home this weekend!” Her voice was full of mirth as she threw an arm around Yuri’s shoulder and dragged him into the classroom, away from Otabek.  

 

“Hey!” Yuri protested. 

 

“I’ll see you around. Since there’s no practice,” Otabek said as he turned to walk away, accepting Mila’s kidnapping. 

 

After wrestling Yuri into his seat, Mila sat on the desk in front of him and looked down expectantly. “What did I say on Friday? Spill!” 

 

“Spill what? I don’t even understand your motive anymore, like are you jealous? Do you wanna fuck him or something? ‘Cause I’m not fucking him, you know. That’s not what’s going on right now. It’s open season for you to swoop in!” 

 

“Oh, Yuri!” Mila sighed, her disappointment sounding almost genuine. “I just want to know if you’re happy! And he’s cute, let me have a bit of fun.” 

 

“Why can’t you have a little fun with Sara Crispino, or whoever else you deem worthy of your time,” Yuri grumbled. Mila’s cheeks flushed at the mention of the female football player. 

 

“Alright,” Mila relented. “I’m sorry if I upset you.” 

 

“I’m not upset!” Yuri snapped before releasing a sigh. “Could you guys just cut me some slack for once?’

 

“Alright, alright,” Mila said again. “I’ll give you some space. But we’re always interested if you ever decide you want to talk.” Mila hopped off the desk and found her own seat. Within a moment, the final bell rang. Yuri bet that Otabek, JJ, and Isabella were probably late for their classes. Not that he cared, of course. It was only first hour, but he was exhausted already. He couldn’t deal with any mild excitement this early in the morning. 

 

By the time Yuri’s school day had come and gone, he was itching to attend ballet for the first time in a week. Cheer practice was fine, he loved the sport unconditionally, but sometimes he needed the independence that came along with ballet. 

 

He and Minako had exchanged text messages throughout the weekend, deciding that in order to make up for his missed class on Thursday, he would arrive an hour early the next time he was scheduled at the studio.

 

When he pushed the glass doors of the studio open, he was surprised to find the room empty. He’d never known exactly what class came before his, but Yuri had sort of expected there to be a group.  “Minako!” He shouted into the studio. Where the hell was she? Yuri tossed his backpack onto the benches that sat by the door.

 

“I’m in here, Yuri! I’m just finishing up!” Minako shouted back from one of the private lesson rooms. 

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Yuri grumbled, hating that someone was making him wait. He stomped towards the private room. After all, the door was open, so who could blame him for barging in? “You said an hour early, it’s an hour early!” Yuri snapped before sticking his head into the room. 

 

“You can wait five goddamn minutes, Yuri,” Minako snapped, turning to look at him at the same time as the student she seemed to be coaching. Yuri was shocked to see the nervous face of Yuuri Katsuki looking back at him. 

 

“What the hell? Katsuki? What are you doing here?” Yuri asked, unable to hide his confusion at seeing the football player outside of a school context. “Why the fuck do you take ballet?” 

 

“Okay, no,” Minako raised a finger at him before Katsuki could come up with a response. “You can’t barge into a private lesson to cuss out and interrogate my other students. You can wait in the front like everyone else, Plisetsky.” 

 

“I was just -” Yuri began to argue, shocked to be demoted to a waiting area. 

 

“Now!” Minako interrupted. Yuri looked at Yuuri once more. The high school senior made an apologetic face and turned to face the bar again. Yuri’s mouth opened and closed while Minako glared at him. 

 

“Goddamn hag,” Yuri muttered to himself as he turned away and made his way back to the benches. What the hell was Katsuki doing here? Everyone in this damn town seemed to have a connection to his ballet teacher. First Beka and Aisha, now this? Viktor would surely be pleased, that is if Yuri ever told him. He couldn’t image a situation in which he would willingly admit to Viktor that the object of his affections had a ballet teacher in common with Yuri. 

 

Yuri dropped himself onto the wooden bench that the parents of young ballerinas were usually congregated around. Sitting there on the bench, he wondered if Otabek and his family ever piled into seats to watch Aisha dance. It was weird to imagine Otabek, all harsh lines and resting bitch-face, sitting quietly to watch a ballet recital. 

 

Minako and Yuuri’s muffled voices could be heard if one listened closely, but Yuri was unable to discern the actual subject of conversation. Now that he thought about it, he supposed he’d heard of football players taking dance classes to help with something or another.

 

“Alright you little brat, Yuuri and I are finished,” Minako spoke as she exited the smaller room. “And before you get in his face with your questions! I know his family. We work together on balance related skills that help in football. Is that a good enough explanation?” She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring down at her younger student. 

 

“It’ll do,” Yuri replied coldly, fixing his glare on Yuuri. Yuuri looked back at him, clearly confused by the animosity. This was the first time they’d ever had anything close to a one-on-one interaction. Most of the information he had on Yuuri Katsuki came secondhand from Viktor’s fawning or Mila’s gossipping. 

 

“Let me get that paperwork I promised your mom and then you can head out,” Minako said to Yuuri before turning towards her office. 

 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, glancing back to Yuri. Yuri held the gaze, squinting, trying to get a better look at the subject of so much gossip between the cheerleaders. 

 

“What is it about you that has everyone so fucking obsessed?” Yuri asked aloud, cocking his head from side to side as he stared. 

 

“I really don’t know what you mean,” Yuuri answered, looking anywhere but Yuri. 

 

“Viktor hasn’t shut up about you since the end of summer party,” Yuri continued. 

 

“What?” Yuuri gaped, his face turning a pale shade of pink. “Don’t remind me of the party, I was a mess.” 

 

“I know. I was there,” Yuri agreed icily. “I’ll never scrub the image of you and Viktor going at it from the insides of my eyelids, you know!” 

 

“Oh God,” Yuuri covered his face. “I hardly remember anything.” 

 

“Poor Viktor,” Yuri sighed, not really feeling sorry for the head cheerleader at all. He’d brought this on himself. “Can’t figure out why you ignore him.” 

 

“Really?” Yuuri peeked out from behind his hands. “I’m not ignoring him, I’m just terrible at this kind of thing! How do you tell someone that you can’t remember anything from the time you hooked up?” 

 

“Fuck if I know,” Yuri laughed, enjoying the distress of the older student. “Maybe you should whine to Viktor and not me.” 

 

Yuuri sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t talk about this with anyone else.”

 

“Probably,” Yuri agreed just as Minako came out of her office. “Although, Vitya seems to have no problem with babbling into my ear about you two. So maybe don’t feel too guilty.” 

 

“Here you are, Yuuri,” Minako said as she approached. Yuri let the subject drop. “I’ll see you later. Hopefully Plisetsky here didn’t give you the third degree. You two know each  other?” 

 

“Football, cheer,” Yuri explained simply as he watched the other Yuuri shove Minako’s papers into his bag. 

 

“Makes sense,” Minako reasoned. “See you.”

 

“Goodbye!” Yuuri walked out the door, moving slightly faster than necessary. He made no effort to bid Yuri a separate farewell. Good riddance, Yuri thought. Why should he have to sit and listen to the Viktor-Slash-Yuuri drama outside of cheer? 

 

“You shit!” Minako slapped the top of Yuri’s head with her clipboard. 

 

“Ah! What the fuck?” Yuri rubbed his head where she had hit it. 

 

“No barking at my family friends!” She told him, exasperated. “Where are your manners? Someone needs to chain you up!” She hit him again for good measure. This time the impact wasn’t as intense, but Yuri still made a sound of complaint. 

 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Yuri grumbled, almost meaning it. “Can we start? I was doing my left splits on Saturday and I think I moved my thigh wrong or something.” Yuri rubbed at the tender spot on his leg that had been present since his time at the Altin’s over the weekend. 

 

“Why were you practicing your splits on your day off?” Minako inquired as she motioned for him to sit with her on the floor for stretches. “I’ve told you a million times to rest on your days off!” 

 

“Oh, give me a break,” Yuri sighed. “It’s a long story.” 

 

“And we have lots of stretches to get through,” Minako reasoned. Before Yuri could start to explain his situation with Otabek and Aisha, the sound of a door slamming made him jump. 

 

“Is Yuri P. here?” A familiar voice asked as the door that connected Minako’s studio to the other businesses rattled. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri answered for himself. The voice was put to a face as Yuuko Nishigori came around the corner. Yuri mouth contorted as he tried to hold back his smile. Yuuko was his favorite of Minako’s employees. 

 

“Hi! Oh no, I missed our other Yuuri leave,” she observed sadly while she sat down next to the dancers. “How have you been?” 

 

“He was about to tell me a long story that ends with him pushing himself on his day off, actually,” Minako explained, not letting Yuri off the hook. 

 

“Fine!” Yuri said, allowing himself to give Yuuko a brief smile before launching into his explanation. “Guy on the football team told me his sister’s in one of your ballet classes. Said that she... admired me or something,” Yuri’s face felt a bit warm discussing his little fan. “I said I’d meet her. She asked to see my splits. That’s all.” As he finished, Yuri prayed that the shallow explanation would satisfy the older women. 

 

“So you made a friend?” Yuuko smiled brightly at him, clearly pleased. 

 

“I guess,” Yuri said, thinking back to bumping into JJ and Isabella that morning, to being chased down and grabbed by Otabek. 

 

“Who’s the sister?” Minako asked, sitting in a pike stretch and leaning towards her toes. 

 

“Aisha Altin,” Yuri said as he mimicked the position. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Minako said, her eyebrows furrowing as she recalled details. “She’s in my Wednesday class for eight to twelve-year-olds. Sweet kid.”

 

“She is,” Yuri agreed, thinking back to the endearing energy of the ten-year-old. 

 

“I’ve seen her brother before, I think,” Yuuko started. “On the shorter side, black hair?” 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri confirmed. “He looks a lot like her.”

 

“What’s his name?” Yuuko asked. 

 

“Otabek. He’s the running back,” Yuri informed them proudly. Yuuko grinned. Jesus, he thought. Since when did he brag about a spot on the football team? How stupid of him. 

 

“Our little Yuri, all grown up! Playing nice and making friends!” Minako joked. Yuri huffed in annoyance. 

 

“Don’t tease him,” Yuuko frowned at her boss. “We’re happy for you, Yuri!” She reached over to give him a friendly pat on the leg. Yuri wouldn’t admit it, but the interest Yuuko always took in what was going on in his life made him glow. It wasn’t often that people took him seriously, so when he found the ones that would, he hung onto them. 

 

After two and a half hours of ballet work, Yuri found himself digging through his backpack in search of his phone. Most of the lesson had been spent working on his flexibility. As puberty wore on, Yuri found himself having to work much harder to maintain his youthful body. 

 

When his hand finally clenched around his cell phone, it vibrated in his hand. Quickly unlocking it, Yuri scrolled to check his notifications. Most of them were from various social media apps. The photo of his new shoes he had posted on Instagram earlier in the day received a surprising amount of likes. Exiting out of the app, he opened a new text message to inform Otabek of his encounter with Yuuri. 

 

_ cant get viktor and his shit out of my life. turns out kasuki takes ballet from minako too??? apparently shes a friend of his family lmao  _

 

Yuri found himself sitting on a curb in the parking lot. Minako and Yuuko would have gladly let him sit inside, but Yuri enjoyed the cool evening air as he waited for his grandfather to pick him up. Otabek didn’t take long to reply. 

 

_ Small world. Then again, I think there’s only one dance studio in this town.  _

 

_ fuck ur right. didnt think of that.  _

 

_ By the way, Isabella told me to invite you the next time we all hang out. Would you be interested in that? I know JJ sort of put you off this morning. And at the game. Probably in general? Sorry about that.  _

 

Yuri stared down at the messaged. Isabella really asked about him? He hadn’t thought he’d left a very good impression on the girl, storming out as he did. Of course she already knew him from cheer, but it wasn’t as if their conversations had consisted of more than two sentences each. And Otabek was right; Yuri thought JJ was an idiot. Everyone was aware of that. Still, if Otabek gave the guy the time of day, maybe there was a redeeming quality or two underneath all the douchebaggery. 

 

_ sure yeah that sounds good. let me know if you guys plan something.  _

 

Yuri hoped that sounded neutral enough. He didn’t want to seem overly eager, nor did he want Otabek to think that he was still annoyed. Setting his phone facedown on the pavement, Yuri vowed not to repeatedly check his phone for a reply. Moments later, he would find he didn’t need to. Otabek’s response was as timely as usual. 

 

_ I will. Goodnight, Yuri.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i love the ladies of yoi and i want them ALL in EVERY story i am so Gay 2. word of god is that otabek is a bad boy and has mischievous friends and i thought to myself alright high achieving burnout i mean pretty relatable yknow??? 
> 
> anyway thanks for reading ur all fantastic thanks for saving my life


	6. Chapter 6

The first time Yuri found himself in Isabella Yang’s house was a Saturday some weeks after their encounter behind the school. Yuri and Otabek had discovered that despite sharing similar sports schedules, it was difficult to find time to hang out outside of school. Yuri’s rigorous training schedule combined with Otabek’’s part time job made for many arguments about free time. Adding JJ and Isabella to the mix made it even more painful to plan anything. 

 

But Saturday, glorious Saturday! Before Otabek, Yuri felt lost on the weekends. Without ballet, cheer and the drudgery of school, what was he supposed to do with himself? Homework? Relaxation? Those words meant nothing to Yuri. Until Otabek, he’d never had anyone that he called a friend. He had the cheerleaders, none of whom he would willingly spend time with outside of school and practice. He had Yuuko and Minako, both adults with full-time jobs and lives outside of ballet. He had his grandfather, the only constant in Yuri’s life that took the shape of a person. 

 

But until Otabek had awkwardly requested his friendship, no one else was allowed to climb the tower Yuri had built under and around himself. And yet, there he sat, on a chair that didn’t belong to Nikolai Plisetsky, surrounded by people his own age.

 

In the past hour, Yuri had learned many things about Otabek, JJ, and Isabella. Within ten minutes of Otabek and Yuri’s arrival at Isabella’s house, JJ took it upon himself to inform Yuri that it was Isabella’s idea to invite him along, and that Yuri still hadn’t quite won his personal approval. 

 

“What the fuck would I want that for?” Yuri had snapped, annoyed at anyone who made an attempt to pull Otabek away from him. 

 

“Never know when it could come in handy,” JJ answered cryptically. Behind him, Isabella smiled pleasantly and said nothing. “Besides, what kind of friends would we be if we weren’t watching out for Otabek?” 

 

“I think I’ll be okay,” Otabek said, his eyes on Yuri as he spoke. 

 

“That’s what you think, Otabek! But whatever,” JJ conceded. “Are we smoking?” 

 

Isabella rapped her knuckles against a bannister, attracting the attention of the group of boys standing in the entryway. The sound was amplified by the chunky silver ring that wrapped itself around her pointer finger. Despite saying nothing, both Otabek and JJ glanced toward her in attention as she made her way down the first few steps. “Your parents haven’t set a time for you to return to your dungeon, have they?” She asked, tilting her head towards Otabek.

 

“Not tonight,” Otabek answered before glancing towards Yuri. He quirked an eyebrow as if to ask “Is this okay?” Yuri shrugged in response. He was distracted, still focused on JJ’s boisterous attitude. 

 

“We aren’t staying up here. Come on,” Isabella commanded when none of the boys were immediately following her. 

 

“Sorry,” Otabek said. He blinked a few times, seemingly as distracted as Yuri, before following her down the stairs. Yuri tripped over his own feet in an attempt to tail Otabek. JJ’s muffled laugh caused a light blush to form across Yuri’s face. He spun around and stuck his middle finger up. JJ’s face was one of shock, his hand slapped over his chest in mock-offense. 

 

“Tch,” Yuri tutted and turned away, scampering down the stairs behind Otabek and Isabella. 

 

Yuri didn’t expect the sprawling house that Isabella led them through. He’d been impressed with Otabek’s house when he had visited some weeks ago, but Isabella’s was on an entirely different level. How did everyone manage to have these fancy, new houses? He supposed that not everyone lived in the old house that their grandfather had owned for years and years. It took two staircases to reach the room that Isabella and the boys had in mind. The large bedroom was spacious enough for multiple pieces of furniture. A couch, bed, desk, and dresser easily fit with room to spare.

 

Though Yuri had no desire to seem clingy, he gravitated closer to Otabek in the new environment. The foreign house combined with new people left Yuri on edge, and he couldn’t help but seek comfort in what was familiar. When Otabek sat down on one side of the couch, Yuri automatically took the open space next to him. Isabella opened the window next to her dresser and began to rummage through the top drawer. The more time Yuri spent around Isabella, the less irritating the girl became. Maybe Yuri could admit that he’d been judgemental without even really talking to her. But still, if she was dating JJ, there was no way there wasn’t something wrong with her!

 

“Please not the pipe!” JJ groaned when his girlfriend pulled an object out of the drawer. “Come on, I hate that thing!” 

 

“Hello? It’s Yuri’s first time,” Isabella reminded him. “And since you’re not providing, I don’t see how your opinion really matters.” 

 

“Not everyone wants to cough themselves to death for a blunt,” Otabek added, coming to Yuri’s defense. 

 

Part of Yuri wanted to snap at Otabek and Isabella for feeling the need to stand up for him. He could defend himself on his own, thank you very much. But he’d already snapped at JJ once, and they’d barely been in the house for a half hour, so Yuri just rolled his eyes and focused on picking at his split ends. Besides, listening to Isabella give JJ attitude had the potential to become one of Yuri’s favorite pastimes. What would he say, anyway? He wasn’t exactly in his element. 

 

“Still interested?” Isabella asked. Yuri nodded. 

 

The older students passed the little bowl around. When it got to Yuri, Otabek leaned over to light it for him. The close proximity made Yuri’s face heat up. It was hard to concentrate on any particular thing when so much was happening at once. After successfully igniting the contents of the bowl, Otabek’s hand brushed across Yuri’s fingers as he pulled away. The touch sent a jolt of energy through Yuri. It travelled from his fingertips, up his arm, and into the rest of his body. 

 

What the fuck was that? Yuri coughed a little as he exhaled. Otabek’s touch had successfully distracted him from the pain of the smoke, but the moment the older boy pulled away, the sensation nipped at Yuri’s throat. “Ow, shit,” he mumbled. 

 

“It hurts a little when you first try it,” Otabek explained. His expression as he watched Yuri recover was one of interest and smug pride. Yuri refused to make eye contact. The electric touch left him feeling strange and off-kilter. Wordlessly, he handed the pipe back to Isabella and settled into the couch. 

 

Yuri watched as the other students continued to smoke. Halfway through, Isabella lit a candle, explaining that her parents would kill her if they came home to a lingering smell. When it came to be Yuri’s turn once more, he waved off Otabek’s offer. “I need another second,” he explained, hoping no one would give him any shit about it. His wish was ignored when JJ sniggered. Before Yuri could snap at him, Isabella clicked her tongue in disdain. 

 

“Shut up, JJ, you’re the one who practically threw up your first time.” JJ opened his mouth to protest, but Isabella continued. “You thought I forgot about that? I’m never forgetting.” 

 

“It was a -”

 

“Don’t tell me what I already know,” Isabella interrupted as JJ tried to argue. 

 

Yuri and Otabek glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. Laughing hurt Yuri’s throat a little, but it was worth it to alleviate some of the tension he’d been feeling. He was slowly beginning to feel more relaxed. It was easy to lean back into the sofa and become a silent observer. He watched Isabella wipe lipstick off the pipe before passing it to JJ. 

 

By the time JJ declared the bowl to be finished, Yuri had taken a total of four hits. His mind felt slow and his body was heavy. Fingers running absently against the soft fabric of the couch, Yuri was entirely content to just sit there. 

 

“How’re you doing?” Otabek asked, jerking Yuri from his trance. 

 

“Good? I’m good,” Yuri answered, unable to keep a soft smile from his face as he looked at his friend. 

 

“He looks way less angry than usual,” Isabella informed JJ as she squinted at Yuri. 

 

“Who thought taming the beast would be this easy?” JJ laughed too loudly for the level of humor his joke was reaching. 

 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Yuri protested, looking to Otabek for his reaction. The older boy’s face was neutral, but he had already been looking at Yuri. “What?” Yuri asked. 

 

“Nothing,” Otabek replied, not averting his gaze. Yuri slouched, not satisfied by the answer. “How do you feel?” Otabek asked again. 

 

“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Yuri grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’m tired.” 

 

“Do you want to lie down? Or sleep?” 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri sighed. Without a second thought, he leaned down to rest his head against Otabek’s thigh. Isabella’s laugh sounded like a bell in his head, but he had no interest in opening his eyes to try to see what was funny. Still, when Otabek shifted underneath him, he cracked his eyes open to look up. 

 

“Beka, stop moving,” he commanded. Otabek’s face was tinged pink as he laughed. “Stop laughing.” Yuri glared at him. 

 

“I’m sorry. You can go to sleep if you want,” Otabek said. “I’ll stay here.” Yuri made a sound of affirmation and closed his eyes once more. 

 

It was a nice, peaceful feeling when he closed his eyes. The room was warmer than one would expect for a basement bedroom, and everyone sitting nearby spoke in quiet voices. Unless he concentrated, it was easy to tune out the conversation. Yuri wondered if he was being lame, just going to sleep while everyone else enjoyed themselves. He couldn’t make himself care though, not when he was this comfortable curled up on top of the cushions. 

 

Yuri had only been lying down for a few moments before he could feel the sensation of someone running their fingers through his hair. Had he been entirely sober, he probably would have jerked into a sitting position and slapped away whoever had touched him without permission. Instead, Yuri allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of fingers against his scalp. He wasn’t a very tactile person. Who was the last person to hug him? Yuri wondered to himself. Probably his grandfather, but he couldn’t remember it being anytime recently. He pressed his face further into Otabek’s denim covered leg. The warmth was incredibly soothing. With the sensation of Otabek’s hand in his hair along with the comfort of the position, Yuri found himself drifting to sleep in minutes. 

 

The nap was dreamless. It reminded Yuri of the random nights in which his hours of sleep felt as quick as a blink. Waking up, Yuri had no concept of how much time had passed. He still felt a mild high, but he had no idea how long it was supposed to last, so that was no help. As a reflex, he kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep until he could judge his surroundings. Only after a good half minute of being awake did Yuri realize he was still lying on Otabek’s leg. How long had they sat there? Had Otabek really just tolerated Yuri collapsing on top of him? Embarrassment flooded him; there was no way to avoid the humiliation. JJ and Isabella definitely saw the whole thing. He had to get up. Why prolong the awkwardness of the situation? 

 

Yuri shifted slightly, cracking his eyes open. When he moved, he realized that Otabek’s hand was still moving through his hair. Now, instead of petting his scalp, Otabek was casually twirling the end of a section. 

 

Unable to process what was happening, Yuri jerked up into a sitting position. “Shit,” was his eloquent observation as all three people in the room looked at him. He avoided eye contact with all of them, especially Otabek. “I - I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. Fuck, that’s awful. Sorry.” Yuri didn’t even have to look in a mirror to know that his face was beet red. 

 

“Yuri,” Otabek’s eyes bore holes into the side of Yuri’s head. Reluctantly, Yuri turned to look at him. “Don't worry about it.” 

 

“No, seriously. You could have shoved me off or something,” Yuri said. “You should have.” 

 

“I didn’t want to,” Otabek insisted. “Stop worrying about it.” His voice was firm, as if he was already tired of arguing about it. “If it made you feel weird, we don’t have to talk about it.” 

 

“No, I’m not - ugh!” Yuri slapped a palm to his forehead. He didn’t want to discuss this at all, let alone in front of JJ and Isabella. The grave he had dug himself into seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. 

 

“It was pretty cute,” Isabella commented from her place on the bed. Her feet rested in JJ’s lap, the two looking like the picture of comfort. Yuri felt like the opposite. Had it just been he and Otabek, he’d be able to tolerate the awkwardness, but JJ and Isabella made him feel a hundred times worse. “You’re so sweet when you’re asleep.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Yuri grumbled as he rubbed his face. 

 

“Hey, be nice to the lady,” JJ spoke for the first time. “She smoked you up.” He’d been oddly silent up until then. Where was the teasing? Had JJ just not noticed Yuri turning Otabek into a pillow? Didn’t he have something more to say about the matter? JJ and Yuri weren’t JJ and Yuri without inflammatory prods followed by irate snarls. But he was  right about one thing; Yuri knew that he had no excuse to be rude to someone in their own house, especially when they had just given him free weed. 

 

“Do you want me to bring you home?” Otabek asked. Yuri could hear the disappointment in Otabek’s tone, so he shook his head. 

 

“No. Sorry,” Yuri hadn’t apologized this much in a long time. “I’m fine.”

 

The moment Yuri rejected Otabek’s proposal, JJ leapt to his feet. Isabella made a sound of protest as her legs were thrown askew by the movement. “Then let’s go somewhere. Since Sleeping Beauty here is -”

 

“Fucking watch it,” Yuri interrupted. Just because he’d made a fool of himself didn’t mean JJ was allowed to bring back the  _ fucking  _ nicknames. 

 

“Since  _ Yuri  _ here is among the living! I’m sick of sitting around. Let’s go somewhere.” Before JJ could move to the bedroom door, Otabek was on his feet and walking towards him. Frowning, he squinted at JJ’s face. 

 

“You look fucked up,” Otabek said. At that, Yuri glanced in the mirror that hung on Isabella’s wall. He too looked pretty terrible. Thank God he hadn’t accepted Otabek’s offer to drive him home. His grandfather would know something or another was up when he saw Yuri’s harried appearance. There were impressions resembling denim threading on his face from leaning against Otabek’s leg. Despite being finger-combed for the last hour, his hair looked like it had been caught in a wind turbine. 

 

“Do you want to borrow a brush?” Isabella asked. In the reflection, Yuri could see her watching him yank at his hair. 

 

“Uh,” Yuri really didn’t want to use some random girl’s hairbrush, but he certainly couldn’t go anywhere looking the way he did. “Sure,” he finally elected to reply. 

 

“Hah!” JJ shook his head back and forth. “Don’t even bother, the ‘just-fucked’ look works surprisingly well.” 

 

“Come on,” Otabek warned. The moment Isabella and her brush were within arms reach, Yuri snatched it from her hand and began to work on his hair. JJ could go fuck himself. As he struggled, Isabella watched from behind him. Yuri avoided eye contact in the mirror, pretending to be very focused on how his hair should lay. 

 

“You should just pull it back,” Isabella suggested, reaching for a tube of lipstick that sat on her desk. “It looks nice that way.” 

 

Yuri laughed awkwardly at the half-compliment before smoothing the strands of hair back. “Thanks,” he said, stretching one of the hair ties that was wrapped around his wrist. After tugging his hair into a ponytail, he deemed himself presentable to outside audiences. Meanwhile, JJ and Otabek seemed to be invested in a argument over JJ’s appearance. 

 

“I’m not going out in public with you,” Otabek stated firmly. 

 

“Oh my god, who cares, man?” JJ snorted, then continued to snort. His laughter went on a bit too long. Otabek didn’t reply, he just continued to look at JJ. His expression was one of exhaustion. “Are you really gonna push this?” 

 

“Isabella,” Otabek caught the attention of JJ’s girlfriend, who had been busy perfecting her lipstick. 

 

“What?” She turned around, clearly barely listening to the earlier exchange. “Uh, listen to him, JJ.” She didn’t sound terribly invested in the outcome of the situation. Yuri scoffed. How did the three of them ever get anything done? 

 

“Babe, Otabek is being unreasonable,” JJ swooped to her side. Not bothering to look at him, she sighed. 

 

“Is he now?” 

 

“He is.” 

 

“Well,” Isabella continued, turning her head and allowing her nose to touch her boyfriend’s. “Oh hell no,” she muttered the moment she took a good look at JJ. “You look fucked  up.” JJ burst into laughter once more. “And you’re acting fucked up!” A quiet snort came from Otabek’s place on the couch. Isabella’s lipstick clattered to the desk. She had dropped it in favor of shoving JJ towards the bed they had been sitting on earlier. “Just sit down. We aren’t going anywhere.” 

 

“Guys!” JJ protested. 

 

“Ignore him,” Isabella glared down at her boyfriend. “Don’t feel like you need to stay here just because  _ someone  _ can’t pull it together.” 

 

“You guys are so lame! Who cares?” JJ continued to fight. 

 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Yuri interjected, placing his hands on his hips before turning away from the mirror. His brain was still fuzzy, and he felt as if he were missing something in the conversation between the older students. 

 

“He acts all stupid when he gets high and then tries to go out in public and embarrass us,” Isabella explained. “We’re not going out until he comes down some more. I’m sick of looking like an idiot in front of people I don’t know.”

 

“He’s embarrassing either way,” Yuri observed. “Whatever. Are we stuck here?” He himself wasn’t feeling as debilitatingly stupid as JJ seemed to be. Maybe it was because he had slept through the first hour or so. Part of him was mildly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to fully experience being high. Next time, if there was a next time, he swore he wouldn’t be falling asleep on Otabek’s thigh. Even remembering the incident, thought it had only happened moments ago, caused Yuri to shudder. 

 

“You two can do whatever. Don’t sit around waiting for him to behave if you want to go out,” Isabella’s annoyed face cracked into a slight smile when JJ poked her leg with his foot. 

 

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, acknowledging the younger boy for the first time since the awkward apologies. “Do you want to go?” 

 

“Where?” 

 

“There are some nice places to walk around here,” Otabek suggested. “We could take the trail.” 

 

“You’ll like it, Yuri. Hardly anyone uses the paths,” Isabella encouraged, laying down with her boyfriend as she spoke. 

 

“Alright, sure,” Yuri agreed, allowing Otabek to lead him out of the room. “Thanks, by the way,” Yuri mentioned as an afterthought to Isabella as he walked out the door. 

 

“Anytime,” Isabella replied. The moment Otabek shut the door, Yuri felt immense relief. He was always a bit on edge when he was around people he didn’t know well, and now, alone with Otabek, he could take a deep breath or two. 

 

Once they were outside the house entirely, Otabek pointed down the road. “It’s that way,” he said. The entrance to the trail was marked by a brown sign that stated the different rules for using the hiking paths. “By the way, would you want to smoke more?” Otabek asked as they made their way down the street. 

 

“I’m still kind of high,” Yuri admitted. “But if you’re okay with me being even more annoying, then sure.” 

 

“You’re not annoying,” Otabek said. “Only if you want to.” 

 

“Then sure,” Yuri said. He looked away from the other boy, not wanting Otabek to notice that his face had gone slightly pink from the stupid reassurance. Yuri didn’t need anyone to tell him that he wasn’t annoying! And yet, there he was, blushing over the most mediocre of comments. It wasn’t even a compliment!

 

“Everything alright?” Otabek interrupted Yuri’s internal monologue. In the seconds Yuri had been lost in thought, Otabek had stopped walking. The distance between them was only a few feet, but to Yuri it felt much too far. He scuttled back to Otabek’s side. 

 

“Everything’s fine, I’m just getting stuck in my own head,” Yuri explained. 

 

“Don’t get stuck,” Otabek gave Yuri’s ponytail a playful tug. The sensation wasn’t at all painful, but it still made Yuri’s scalp tingle. He was unaccustomed to casual physical touch - or more, he was unaccustomed to enjoying it. All the other times people touched him, he swatted them away. He ducked out of hugs and barely tolerated handshakes. Why should he be forced into touching people he didn’t want to touch? 

 

The thing Yuri couldn’t get past was the fact that he  _ wanted  _ to touch Otabek. He’d never met anyone whose touch was something that left his skin feeling so warm and comforted. Every time he thought back to resting on the other boy’s lap, his face heated up from both the embarrassment and the desire to do so again. 

 

He needed to  _ stop. _ Yuri physically shook his head back and forth and strode on ahead of Otabek. The boy was his first real friend, and Yuri couldn’t ruin it with the awkward attraction that bubbled underneath all of their interactions. 

 

Once they made it to the trailhead, it wasn’t long before Otabek was leading Yuri on a route that he had clearly taken before. After a few twists and turns, a little dock overlooking a pond came into view. 

 

“No one really comes through here,” Otabek explained as the dock creaked under his feet. “So we should be good.” He produced a thin roll of brown paper from his pocket and lit its end in a single smooth motion. Yuri’s eyes darted down to where Otabek’s lips were wrapped around the unlit end of the blunt. It wasn’t nearly as attractive as Yuri hoped. Otabek’s lips were pressed tightly into a thin line where they curled around his teeth, the blunt balancing in the middle. After removing it, he exhaled and handed it to Yuri. “It might be a little harsh,” he warned. “I don’t have anything else.”

 

“Okay,” Yuri said as he grabbed the blunt with delicate fingers. It had an odd taste when he pressed it to his mouth, inhaling. Otabek was right; smoking this way burned a bit more than the pipe had. Yuri didn’t bother trying to hold in the smoke as he’d seen JJ and Isabella do, he quickly blew it out and let out a hoarse cough. 

 

“Sorry,” Otabek gave Yuri a concerned glance. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Yeah, fine,” Yuri turned away to take a deep breath of fresh air. 

 

“It’s fine if you need a second,” Otabek said before holding the blunt to his lips once more. 

 

“Thanks,” Yuri answered without looking back. Or moving. The single, harsh hit he had taken went to his head within a minute. His brain felt as if someone was squeezing it, leaving him unable to focus on any one thing at a time. 

 

“Is it hitting you?” Otabek asked, once again reading Yuri’s mind. 

 

“I - yeah,” Yuri answered as he turned to look at Otabek. He didn’t bother lying - there was no way he could manage to act normal when he felt like this. His face contorted into a small smile that begged to become a full-on grin. 

 

“Do you want to stop?” 

 

“No,” Yuri reached for the blunt. It was easiest if he kept his answers monosyllabic. Maybe if he was quiet enough, he could keep the strange laugh that was building in his chest from bubbling out. He closed his eyes when he inhaled the second time, but when he opened them as he exhaled, he was assaulted by the image of Otabek’s profile highlighted by the setting sun. “What the fuck?” Yuri blurted, the last of the smoke in his lungs dispersing into the air as he spoke. Otabek didn’t answer right away, he just cocked an eyebrow and took back the blunt. Yuri’s eyes were fixed on Otabek’s fingers as the smoke curled around them. 

 

“You’re staring,” Otabek finally observed. The steady eye contact he always made felt like an oppressively heavy weight pushing down on Yuri’s body. 

 

“I’m staring,” Yuri repeated sullenly, not making any effort to stop. “That’s supposed to be your thing.” 

 

“My thing?” 

 

“You can get away with shit like that,” Yuri grumbled. “Shit like... looking all... what the fuck’s the word? Brooding and... and shit. It’s the vibe. You can stare at anything! Or nothing! And no one’s got anything to say about it!” His words tripped over his tongue. Yuri’s mouth felt as if it was moving faster than his brain. Part of him knew that he wasn’t making any sense, but he convinced himself that he could make it to his point. Said point was a mystery, but Yuri was sure he’d figure it out. “Half our conversations have started because you’re staring at me! But I can’t take three seconds to look at you in the sun and shit? That’s not fair!” Yuri released a breathless laugh, as if he hadn’t taken a full gulp of air since he’d begun speaking. “You’re - you’re a fucking douche!” 

 

Otabek just stared at him, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was doing his best to hold back a smile. 

 

“I feel like I just talked for like... five straight minutes,” Yuri sighed. “At least.” 

 

“It was probably about twenty seconds.”

 

“I’m glad I slept before,” Yuri muttered as he stared off to the other side of the pond. It wasn’t a very pretty view. ‘Pond’ was probably too kind a word to describe the swampy pit. The dock they were standing on was the only one throughout the little marshland. He wished he was asleep again instead of running his mouth. 

 

“I’m glad you slept too,” Otabek agreed. 

 

“Why are  _ you  _ glad?” Yuri snapped; his mind was foggy but he thought he detected hints of sarcasm in Otabek’s voice. 

 

“I just am,” Otabek said. Before Yuri could prod Otabek any more, he felt a little tickle at the top of his head. Instinctively, he raised a hand to brush at his hair. The first assumption that came to mind was that a leaf had fallen on top of him. Before he could swat away whatever was touching him, Otabek was reaching over to grab his hand. 

 

“Wha -?” Yuri asked, tugging at Otabek’s firm grip. 

 

“It’s a butterfly,” Otabek informed him, nodding to the top of Yuri’s head. 

 

“A butterfly?” Yuri gasped. “What kind?” 

 

“It’s orange,” was Otabek’s ever-descriptive answer. 

 

“I want to see! Take a picture!” Yuri fumbled for his phone with his free hand. It was tucked into the back pocket furthest from his hand, forcing him to awkwardly reach around himself to retrieve it. It was only when Otabek dropped his hand to take the phone that Yuri realized they’d been holding hands for a moment longer than necessary. Embarrassment coursed through him. He turned away from Otabek to look back out over the water, hoping the other boy didn’t notice the way Yuri himself was noticing, and crossed his fingers that his fair skin didn’t reveal his blush. 

 

“Look,” Otabek held the phone out to Yuri. 

 

“Oh,” Yuri said softly. He didn’t realize Otabek had still been taking the photo. “What the fuck!” Yuri exclaimed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The picture had turned out fantastically. The butterfly was orange and black, spreading its wings into Yuri’s hair. The green of the surrounding foliage contrasted with Yuri’s dark clothing. Yuri himself was staring off-camera, his cheeks slightly flushed. He looked relaxed. Almost  _ too  _ relaxed. 

 

“Want me to retake it?” Otabek offered. Yuri’s head whipped around, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Otabek frowned. “You scared it off.” 

 

“You don’t have to take another. This looks  _ fucking  _ awesome!” Yuri exclaimed. “Do you mind if I post it?” 

 

“Do what you want. You’re the one in the picture,” Otabek shrugged, smiling at Yuri’s excitement.

 

“Thanks!” Yuri began furiously swiping and tapping on his phone. A glowing filter made the photo look even more ethereal. “I’m going to tag you. If that’s okay.” Yuri glanced up to gauge Otabek’s response. 

 

“I don’t mind.” Otabek shrugged again. Yuri knew that he didn’t use social media much. One afternoon, Yuri had attempted to stalk him on Instagram, only to find the account only had four posts. 

 

Yuri kept the caption to a simple butterfly emoticon along with Otabek’s Instagram handle. 

 

“Do you want to finish this?” Otabek gestured to the blunt that would need to be relit. “We can go through the whole trail. You’ll like it, it’s pretty.”

 

“Sure,” Yuri’s smile was full of teeth when he looked at his friend. The silly photo had brightened his mood considerably. As he watched Otabek smoke, his phone began to vibrate with notifications. When he pressed the home button, Mila’s comment was the first thing to appear at the top of his screen. 

 

_ d8???  _ was all the comment said. 

 

“Stupid bitch,” Yuri grumbled under his breath. He was about to unlock the phone to type a flaming reply, but Otabek took the moment to place his own hand on top of Yuri’s phone. 

 

“Kind of harsh,” Otabek observed. 

 

“Not your business.”

 

“Why do you let them bother you?” He asked. Yuri rolled his eyes. Otabek hadn’t even seen his phone, there was no way he had any idea what Yuri was pissed about! “Why don’t you stop worrying about that stuff for a second?” Otabek’s hand tightened around Yuri’s phone, making it clear that he was moving to take it. 

 

“Hey!” Yuri protested. 

 

“I think you’ll feel better,” Otabek insisted. He didn’t snatch the phone away like Yuri might have, but he left his hand where it was, ultimately leaving Yuri to choose. 

 

Yuri curled his hand around his phone once more, even more protective than usual. But maybe Otabek was right; all Yuri did was feed into Mila and Viktor’s teasing, letting them rile him up all the time. Slowly, he loosened his grip on the phone. “Fine,” Yuri relented. “Take it.” Otabek smiled softly and traded Yuri the blunt for the phone. Yuri’s fingers clamped around the end, and brought it to his lips. Otabek deposited Yuri’s phone into the pocket of his jeans. 

 

“I hope you know I don’t let just  _ anyone  _ take my shit,” Yuri said in between small puffs. Towards the end of the blunt, the hits were burning Yuri’s throat even more. He couldn’t manage the long, slow drags that Otabek had been taking. 

 

“I know.” Otabek reached for the blunt and took a final hit before stubbing out the burning roach against the dock’s wooden railing. 

 

“Tch,” Yuri scoffed. “You ‘know’. Shut up.” 

 

Before Yuri could say anything more, Otabek leaned in close to his face. Panic shot through Yuri’s core as their faces grew closer and closer. Before any real contact was made, Otabek stopped moving and blew a tiny puff of smoke into Yuri’s face. Yuri sputtered at the odd sensation of breath in his face and smoke in his nose. 

 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Yuri muttered, shoving Otabek in the direction of the path. The older boy blew the rest of the smoke away from Yuri. 

 

“Probably,” Otabek laughed as he shoved the roach into his pocket.

 

“That’s going to stain your pants,” Yuri observed snottily, delighted by the dark marks of ash that would probably show up inside Otabek’s pocket. Stupid Otabek and his stupid pocket. Otabek and his stupid face that glowed in the sun. Otabek and the way everything he did made Yuri’s heart hammer in his chest. 

 

Fuck, was all Yuri could think as their shoes hit the path. His mind was pleasantly fuzzy and his body felt relaxed. It was hard to walk straight on the slightly uneven terrain, but every time he stumbled, Otabek’s hand would reach over to grip Yuri’s arm, firmly steadying him. 

 

Yuri felt as if he’d left a part of himself back on the dock, or perhaps even back at Isabella’s house. A heavy weight had been removed from his shoulders. Words and ideas lost their meaning as Yuri felt the ever-present tension in his spine slowly begin to release. The control that Yuri had always kept such an iron grip on had dissipated. Otabek’s gentle grip on Yuri’s arm seemed to be the only thing tethering him to the earth. 


	7. Chapter 7

If Yuri had known how much trouble one Instagram post would cause him, he’d have saved Otabek’s photo of him to his camera roll and never let it see the light of day. 

 

After successfully evading the cheerleaders on social media, Yuri expected Monday’s practice to be uneventful. Two days had passed, and Yuri could only hope that the likes of Mila and Viktor had found something newer and shinier to focus on. 

 

Instead, it only took about three minutes before Mila cautiously brought up the subject. Ever since the morning that Otabek had walked him to first hour, Mila had made her best effort not to push Yuri further than he could stretch. It was clear on Monday, however, that Mila’s thirst for gossip and knowledge overpowered any and all of her good intentions. As the two of them sat next to each other on the gym floor, Mila interrupted her focused stretching to raise an eyebrow at Yuri. That morning, a few hours of heavy rainfall had left the field soaking wet, causing football and cheer practice to be moved indoors. 

 

“What?” Yuri asked, already exasperated. He knew that look. Mila’s upper half was flattened against the floor in a pancake stretch. Her face was the only thing that wasn’t flush with the wood paneling. Instead, it was turned toward Yuri, her mouth twitching in a barely-concealed smirk. 

 

“Your Instagram post on Saturday was cool,” Mila observed, too casually. “I didn’t know Otabek Altin was such a talented photographer.” 

 

“Hmph!” Yuri grunted at Mila’s pathetic attempt to bring up the topic. “Why can’t we ever just stretch? Or do lifts? Why does it always have to be life updates with you?” 

 

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression we were friends!” Mila laughed, never taking Yuri’s flares of annoyance too seriously. “Or are there a limited number of spaces? Do they fill up fast? Has Otabek already bought out every seat in Yuri Plisetsky stadium? Has he already replaced us low-ranking nobodies?” 

 

“Maybe he has!” Yuri fired back. It wasn’t a clever response, but he needed to interrupt Mila’s tangent before it spiraled out of control. Distracted by his argument, Yuri failed to notice the footsteps approaching from behind.  

 

“Who has what?” a voice asked. Yuri whipped his head around to see the grinning face of Viktor Nikiforov. 

 

“None of your -”

 

“Vitya!” Mila interrupted. “You saw the lovely photo Yuri posted over the weekend, right?” Her voice drowned out any attempt to snap at Viktor that Yuri made. 

 

“I couldn’t miss it! Who knew our Yurio was so photogenic? Or maybe Otabek Altin is just particularly proficient in photography.” 

 

“See? That's what I was thinking!” Mila giggled, pleased that there was someone to join in on the banter. 

 

“Say,” Viktor started, one finger tapping against his chin. “A little birdie told me they overheard a certain Isabella Yang discussing someone I think we all know.” He raised an eyebrow at Yuri, making it abundantly clear which “someone” he was referring to. 

 

Mila’s face broke out into a knowing grin. “Has the day finally arrived? Is our Yurotchka branching out?” Her expression was one part teasing and one part genuine pride. “First Otabek, now Isabella?” 

 

“Wasn't Isabella Yang classified as a,” Viktor paused, searching for a word. “Vapid tramp, was it?” Yuri visibly winced. He didn't remember using those exact words to describe the other cheerleader, but knowing him, it couldn't be far from the truth. Yuri gnawed on his lip to keep from speaking before he had a moment or two to think. 

 

“Maybe,” he tried. “I was... Quick to judge.” Yuri braced himself, expecting an explosive reaction from his stretching companions. Not often did he admit to being in the wrong. To his surprise, neither spoke right away. Mila looked across the gym and made eye contact with Isabella. The two smiled politely at each other, as one often did when encountering strangers. Viktor simply nodded at Yuri, a knowing smile that seemed too mature for Viktor’s usual antics lighting up across his face. 

 

“Is she still dating JJ Leroy?” Mila asked, giving Yuri a sidelong look. 

 

“Tch,” Yuri scoffed. “Yeah. Douchebag.” 

 

“Jealous?” Viktor asked with a teasing smirk. 

 

“I don't know, Viktor,” Yuri replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you jealous that -”

 

“Maybe let's stop?” Mila suggested, clapping her hands in an attempt to cut Yuri off. “Are you and JJ suddenly on better terms?” Mila looked like she was actually trying to understand. Yuri sighed, annoyed at having to string together an explanation for something he didn't even understand himself. 

 

“Otabek tolerates him. So,” Yuri paused, hunting for the right words. “I guess he must have some redeeming qualities.”

 

“Oh, Yurotchka!” Mila beamed at him, everything about her demeanor screaming proud older sister. “I'm so happy you've found someone!”

 

Yuri could feel his face go red at Mila's comment. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He watched Mila and Viktor exchange a look. “Fuck you guys! Would you just tell me what you're thinking instead of doing that?” 

 

“Everyone needs a person, Yuri,” Viktor smiled kindly. 

 

“A  _ person _ ?” Yuri repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

 

“Yes, a person!”

 

“And what exactly would  _ you  _ know about that, Viktor?” Yuri grumbled sullenly. A  _ person _ , what did that even mean? When he looked up, Viktor’s facial expression was going from open and lighthearted to stony and reserved.

 

“I hope you don't talk to Otabek Altin like that, Yuri,” his tone was light and kind, but his eyes had darkened to convey something of a warning. “Or you might end up no sort of person at all.” With that, Viktor stood up and strode out of the gym. 

 

“What a dramatic asshole,” Yuri grumbled, unable to keep himself from watching with interest as Yuuri Katsuki appeared in the doorway at the same time Viktor was attempting to exit. Instead of walking around each other, Yuuri said something that caused Viktor to sigh and point out the door. After a nod of understanding from Yuuri, the pair turned and left together. It was much more relaxed than the last interaction Yuri had witnessed. Something must have occurred between them when he wasn't around. 

 

“He's not wrong,” Mila’s voice brought Yuri’s attention back to stretches and the floor. 

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Yuri started lowering himself into a split. 

 

“It means that your brain to mouth filter could probably use some work,” Mila sighed, reaching over to guide him into a deeper stretch. 

 

“What?” Yuri asked again, still not understanding.

 

“You say cruel things, Yurotchka.” 

 

“When?” Yuri challenged. Of course he said cruel things sometimes! But in his most recent interactions, he thought he’d shown a remarkable amount of restraint.  

 

“Just now?” Mila raised an auburn eyebrow. It baffled Yuri that her clearly drawn-on eyebrows somehow perfectly matched the shade of her hair. 

 

“What? Viktor?” 

 

“What would Viktor know about having a person?” Mila repeated Yuri's words from earlier. 

 

“For fucks - he was teasing  _ me _ !” Yuri exclaimed. 

 

“That’s true. But there's still a line with some people, Yuri. One that doesn’t need to be crossed.”

 

“I didn't know.”

 

“I know you didn't. Viktor knows too. But sometimes,” Mila paused to flick a piece of hair away from her face. “Sometimes the things that hurt the most... I think the reason they hurt is because you have no idea how hurtful they are. Did that make any sense? Do you understand what I mean?” 

 

“No,” Yuri muttered, refusing to make eye contact with the older girl. “But I can try.” 

 

“That’s my Yuri!” Mila beamed at him. “You’ve been better lately, you know? I couldn’t believe you didn’t lose your mind on Instagram over the weekend.” 

 

“Otabek took my phone,” Yuri admitted. He held back a dorky smile as he fondly remembered the walk they shared on Saturday. 

 

“He  _ took  _ your phone?” Mila gaped at him. “And you let him?” 

 

Yuri grimaced. “His argument was logical,” Yuri took only a second to debate over including the other details of the afternoon. “We were also high.” 

 

“You were  _ high _ ? Yuri!” Mila squinted at him. “What the hell?” 

 

“Oh, don’t be a hypocrite!” Yuri scoffed. “I know you’ve done it before too. And besides, you’re blind drunk practically every other weekend!” 

 

“It’s not the same thing!” Mila said, sounding scandalized. 

 

“It  _ is  _ the same thing!” 

 

“What’s the same thing?” Someone on Yuri’s left asked. He looked up to see Otabek towering over him, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

 

“Nothing,” Yuri answered too quickly. He was still sitting in his splits, and he watched as Otabek’s gaze dragged from his outstretched legs up to his face. “Don’t you have practice?” 

 

“You want me to go?” Otabek joked, smiling at the look of offense on Yuri’s face. “I’m kidding. The coaches sent a couple of us to tell everyone that practice is cancelled.”

 

“What? I’m already stretched!” Yuri whined, slowly rolling out of his split. His foot accidentally brushed against Otabek’s as he rose to a standing position. “Sorry,” Yuri said, his cheeks warming at the clumsy touch. 

 

“Why are you apologizing?” Otabek asked, offering a hand to help Yuri up. Yuri took it without a second thought, enjoying the feeling of Otabek’s calloused fingers against his. Once he was standing, he shrugged. 

 

“I don’t know. I’m not.” 

 

“Okay,” Otabek said. “Are you busy this afternoon?” 

 

“Well if there’s no practice, then...” Yuri trailed off. 

 

“Yuri would love to spend the afternoon with you!” Mila interrupted, having gotten off the floor and into a standing position of her own.

 

“Yeah?” Otabek asked, glancing towards Yuri with a half-smile on his face. 

 

“Tch,” Yuri scoffed as he gave Mila a glare. She stuck out her tongue in reply. “Yeah.”

 

“Let me change and bring the bike around?” Otabek offered. “Unless your grandfather is still against the idea of you riding.” 

 

“He’s fine with it. I’ll meet you at the doors,” Yuri lied. Otabek face brightened at the news. 

 

“See you soon,” Otabek said as he began to walk away. Once he was far enough, Mila turned a blinding grin upon Yuri. 

 

“I have so many questions!” Mila cried. 

 

“Well, I have a limited number answers.” 

 

“First of all,” Mila began, ignoring Yuri’s attitude. “Your grandfather approves of a  _ motorcycle _ ? That feels... unlikely.”

 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” 

 

“You’re going to give him a heart attack one of these days, you little sneak!”

 

“Not if he doesn't find out!” Yuri allowed a slight smile to quirk at the sides of his mouth. 

 

“Yuri!” Mila cackled for a second before calming down. “You look happy.” 

 

“I've heard that friendship does that to a person. Jury’s still out, though.” Yuri’s reply lacked the bite that was usually laced between his words. 

 

“Do you like him?” Mila asked bluntly, no trace of teasing in her words. 

 

“I don -” Yuri started, a flush taking over his cheeks. His heart pounded in his chest, debating what to share, what to omit, what the answer to Mila’s question even was. 

 

“It’s okay, Yuri,” Mila reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Either way.” 

 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, wringing his hands. “I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t... You know...”

 

“What, piss you off?” Mila giggled. 

 

“Well, yeah. But I guess it’s more than that. Jesus fuck,” Yuri huffed. “Why am I even telling you this?”

 

“Because, though I piss you off, I’m your kind friend that cares about your well-being?” Mila asked. 

 

“I guess,” Yuri grumbled, only partially listening. His mind was busy replaying the feeling of Otabek’s rough hands on his as he tried to come up with an explanation. “He never 

stops taking me seriously,” Yuri tried. “He just gets it.” Everything, Yuri wanted to say. He gets everything. 

 

“Hm,” Mila acknowledged. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s cute, right?” 

 

Yuri let out a surprised laugh. “Well fuck no, of course it doesn’t hurt. But I don’t want to fuck up the first real friendship I’ve ever had with like,” he paused. “ _ Feelings _ or however else you shitheads describe it.” 

 

“If it helps, I’ve always kind of thought he had a thing for you,” Mila told him. 

 

“What?” Yuri turned abruptly to look at her.  _ What?  _

 

“Since sophomore year, you know?” Mila continued as if Yuri was following. He was  _ not  _ following! 

 

“No! I don’t know! We didn’t even know each other then!” 

 

“Well I get  _ that _ ,” Mila rolled her eyes at Yuri's lack of understanding. “He used to look at you, that's all. I just assumed he had an unrequited crush.”

 

“A  _ crush _ ,” Yuri repeated. He wanted to say more, but as he opened and closed his mouth, he found that no words would come out. 

 

“You really didn't notice?” Mila asked, squinting like she didn't believe him. 

 

“I didn't even know his first name until Viktor started giving me shit about it!”

 

“Oh. Well,” Mila’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I could be wrong. It's been known to happen.”

 

“And you never thought to - I don’t know, maybe  _ fucking  _ mention it to me or something?”

 

Mila sighed. “Just forget I said anything. Or ask him about it. Speaking of! Run along, he's probably waiting.” 

 

“Fuck,” Yuri muttered, remembering Otabek and his awaiting bike. Forgetting to say goodbye to Mila, he scampered to the edge of the gym and swept up his bag without pause. Yuri cursed himself for forgetting a jacket that morning. The tank top he was wearing wouldn't provide much protection from the wind that whipped around the bike as it flew down the street. Nor would it do him much good if they happened to get into an accident. 

 

The doors were only a short walk from the gym, but Yuri hurried anyway. “Bye, Yuri!” Isabella waved as he dramatically kicked one of the main doors open. Yuri allowed himself a brief pause to wave back before he was off again. Otabek and his bike were parked at the edge of the curb. When Yuri tried to climb onto the seat, Otabek blocked him with a helmet pressed to his middle. 

 

“Do you have a coat?” Otabek asked, glancing at Yuri’s bare arms and shoulders. 

 

“No, forgot it at home,” Yuri admitted as he crammed his head into the helmet. “Is that alright?” 

 

“You’re going to be cold,” Otabek said before he began to shrug off his leather jacket. “Take this.”

 

“No,” Yuri protested. “It’s yours. Won’t you be cold too?” 

 

“I have long sleeves,” Otabek nodded down at the dark grey sweater that fit snugly against his torso. 

 

“Are you sure?” Yuri asked, taking the offered jacket. The inside was warm from where Otabek’s body had pressed against it. A thrill jolted through Yuri’s chest at the idea of wearing the older boy’s clothes. 

 

“I’m sure. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

 

“Well - thanks,” Yuri slid his arms through the sleeves and ducked his head to hide the small smile that he had been unable to hold back. The jacket was a size or two too large and had a soft, spicy scent, like men’s deodorant or cologne. He couldn’t help but push his face into the shoulder in a subtle attempt to inhale more of the smell. Yuri planned to strike a ridiculous pose in order to show off the awkward fit, but when he looked back at Otabek, the blush that had blossomed across the other boy’s face distracted him. 

 

Otabek’s jaw was set. Any stranger walking by might assume he was angry, but the pink tint of his cheeks and his wide-eyed stare suggested otherwise. 

 

Yuri’s heart sped up in the seconds of silence. “Well? Think I can pull it off?” Yuri watched Otabek’s throat move as he swallowed. Was the, Yuri wondered cautiously, was the blush on Otabek’s face the result of  _ attraction _ ? Adrenaline spread through Yuri’s stomach at the thought, and suddenly the heavy leather of the jacket felt too hot. 

 

“Suits you,” Otabek finally concurred. Yuri grinned, poking his tongue out to lick the dryness away from his own lower lip. “Are you getting on?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri said, a laugh bubbling out of him as he mounted the bike. He felt giddy and warm at the idea that Otabek found Yuri wearing his jacket  _ hot _ . Yuri didn’t exactly disagree either. He couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have Otabek’s knitted sweater draped across his body. There wasn’t a question of whether or not it would fit. Anything that fit Otabek’s broad shoulders would hang off of Yuri’s thinner frame. 

 

“Where to?” Otabek asked as Yuri slid his arms around his middle. 

 

“Wherever,” Yuri spoke, his voice directly at Otabek’s ear. How had he managed to do this weeks ago? The first ride had been strange, charged in a way that, due to the newness of the relationship, was mildly uncomfortable. Now, the intimacy felt doubled. He couldn’t ignore the way his mouth was level at Otabek’s neck, his breath close enough to the skin to feel its warmth.

 

“Wherever isn’t a place, Yuri,” Otabek said, his voice a level contrast to the unhinged feeling coursing through Yuri. 

 

“Whatever, smartass,” Yuri tried to sound sure of himself. “Is Aisha home yet? I haven’t seen that brat in ages.”

 

“Probably not yet, but the bus usually drops her off about an hour from now,” Otabek said. “You want to go back to my house?” He sounded slightly surprised. 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Yuri replied. “Unless you’d rather do something else?” 

 

“Home is good,” Otabek said, starting the bike. Yuri’s response to the sound of the engine was almost Pavlovian. His heart stuttered in excitement and a grin broke out across his face. 

 

“Onward!” He exclaimed with a breathless laugh, and gave Otabek’s calf a light kick.. Otabek’s shoulders moved up and down once in a small chuckle before he tossed his head back and knocked it against Yuri’s forehead. “Ow! Fuck! Okay, maybe I deserved that.” Pain blossomed across Yuri’s face, but it was not severe enough to justify much complaint.

 

“Maybe,” Otabek agreed, a smile evident in his tone. 

 

The ride to Otabek’s house was quiet, as the motorcycle’s engine was loud enough to drown out anything below a shout. Yuri had asked about it once, wondering if the people living in Otabek’s fancy neighborhood ever complained about the noise. Otabek reassured Yuri that the exhaust system followed noise ordinance. 

 

Though he had already seen it once before, Yuri was no less impressed and intimidated by the polished neighborhood during his second viewing. Everything about the area gave the impression that it was meant to be there, from the carefully coordinated rose bushes in the front yard of one house, to the clean, neutral colored cars parked in driveways. Yuri couldn’t fight the cold shame that built in his chest when he thought about how strange he probably looked against the surrounding environment. Places like these, Yuri thought, did not belong to long-haired boys with short tempers and inclinations for traditionally feminine hobbies. He was not the type of boy people wanted to see walking down their street. Or riding down their street on the back of a motorcycle. But, he supposed, neither was Otabek. Even without the casual drug use, Yuri couldn’t imagine Otabek gaining the approval of a community like this. The motorcycle probably didn’t win him any popularity points, even if it did abide by city law. 

 

When the bike pulled up outside of Otabek’s house, Yuri noticed a pair of children, a boy and a girl, covering their ears in the neighboring yard. A woman, Yuri assumed to be their mother, sat on the front porch, watching Yuri and Otabek with too much interest. Immediately, Yuri was reminded of Mrs. Petrov, his own ghastly neighbor, and expected the worst. Fortunately, when Otabek killed the engine, the woman greeted them with a friendly smile and wave. 

 

“Sorry about the noise, guys,” Otabek called to the children, giving them a kind smile. The kids smiled back and uncovered their ears.

 

“It's alright!” The woman called back. “No practice today?” 

 

“Fields are still wet from the rain this morning,” Otabek explained, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “So we’ve come to keep Aisha company when she gets home.” 

 

“Who's that?” The little boy pointed at Yuri in the impolite way only children can get away with. 

 

“Friend of yours?” The mother asked. 

 

“Yeah. This is Yuri,” Otabek gestured towards him, and Yuri gave a little wave. “These are my neighbors. Katie,” he pointed to the little girl. “And Jacob. And their mom is Jess.” 

 

“Nice to meet you,” Yuri said politely, hoping they could shuffle inside without having to suffer through small talk. Little kids made him paranoid, always asking weird questions and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Aisha was an exception, and even she had her moments. 

 

“Is Yuri a boy’s name or a girl’s name?” Katie asked. Otabek looked at Yuri, expecting him to respond. Yuri held back an eye roll. 

 

“Boy’s.” 

 

“Then you’re a boy, right?” Jacob asked suspiciously. Jess’s face turned red as she laughed awkwardly. Yuri clenched his jaw. His theory about little kids asking weird questions? Proved within the first two minutes of conversation. Meanwhile, Otabek was choking back laughter, and not the awkward kind. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri grunted, suddenly feeling less of an inclination to be polite. 

 

“Sorry!” Jess rose from her seat and made her way across the yard. The long maxi dress she wore fluttered in the gentle breeze. “I guess they’ve never seen a boy with long hair before.” 

 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Otabek said before Yuri could formulate a response. “We should head in. Nice to see you.” 

 

“Right! Nice to see you too. Nice to meet you, Yuri.” Jess gave him a warm smile, and Yuri allowed Otabek to tug him inside by the sleeve of the leather jacket. 

 

Once the front door was closed, Yuri fixed his glare on Otabek. The older boy raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh if it annoys you so much.” 

 

“Asshole,” Yuri gave him a half-hearted shove. 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Otabek said again. “You and kids. It’s just funny.” 

 

“This is why Aisha is the only kid I like,” Yuri grumbled before slouching over to the sofa. He crumpled into a pile on the cushion and brought his arms out of the sleeves of the oversized jacket. Instead of taking it off, he wrapped the garment around himself and used it as an awkward cloak. 

 

“It’s not an insult, you know,” Otabek sat on the cushion next to him. 

 

“What?” 

 

“That people mistake you for a girl,” he explained. Yuri squinted at him. 

 

“But it’s annoying. You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“No, but I want to.” 

 

“Tch!” Yuri scoffed. “Yeah, trust me. I want to understand too. When you figure it out, let me know.” Yuri turned away from Otabek, fixing his gaze upon the analog wall clock.  

 

“It’s because you’re pretty and have long hair, is all. You’re thin and short. There aren’t that many people who look like you do,” Otabek explained. Halfway through the explanation, however, Yuri stopped listening. He was too caught up on Otabek’s first sentence. 

 

“You think I’m pretty?” Yuri turned back to look at his friend. He could hear a little click as Otabek’s jaw snapped closed behind his lips. 

 

“Everyone thinks you’re pretty, Yuri,” Otabek said. Yuri let out a high-pitched laugh. 

 

“You sound like Mila when you run your mouth.” 

 

“I’m just being honest.” 

 

The mention of Mila caused Yuri to flash back to their conversation earlier in the afternoon. She had probably just been fucking with him, hinting at Otabek’s crush, but the flames of his curiosity had been fanned by the other boy’s behavior. 

 

“Otabek.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“The first time we met was that day at the stadium, right?” Yuri asked, trying to find a logical explanation for Mila’s thoughts. 

 

“Cheer and football overlap a lot. I knew who you were before, but yes, that was the first day we formally met.” 

 

“Huh,” Yuri said, mostly to fill the space while he figured out what to say. 

 

“Why do you ask?” Otabek inquired.

 

“Some shit Mila was saying,” Yuri muttered. “She thought we knew each other before this or something.” It was a lie, but what was he supposed to do? Tell Otabek that Mila thought he had  a crush on Yuri before they even met? Of course, the question probably wouldn’t even faze him.

 

“That makes sense,” Otabek said. Yuri blinked in confusion. 

 

“It does?” 

 

“I was interested in talking to you during my sophomore year when you first started cheering. I was shy and never went through with it. Mila probably noticed that I was paying you extra attention,” Otabek ran his hand through the short hair at the back of his neck. The explanation was much simpler than Yuri expected. So why did he feel so annoyed and... disappointed?

 

“Why were you interested in talking to me?” Yuri asked. Otabek’s gaze jumped from somewhere on Yuri’s face to his eyes. 

 

“I couldn’t put my finger on it,” Otabek said, mostly to himself. “There was a certain intensity about you. There still is.” 

 

“Huh,” Yuri glanced away, the eye contact suddenly overwhelming. 

 

“People are just attracted to you, I think,” Otabek continued. Yuri scoffed, doubtful. “You don't believe me? Well then why does everyone jump at the chance to talk to you and  know what you’re doing?” 

 

“Because they’re nosy, stupid, and get distracted by shiny objects. It’s not about me.” 

 

Otabek looked at Yuri like he’d grown a second head. “Okay,” was all he said, his tone mildly sarcastic.

 

“Oh please, it's not that deep. Besides, how can you possibly know what everyone else thinks?” Yuri rolled his eyes at Otabek’s overanalyzation.  

 

“Because I'm no different from them, really,” Otabek mused, avoiding Yuri’s eye. 

 

“What?” Yuri snapped, voice tight as he looked away. He didn’t know what to say to that. Why was Otabek like this? Yuri was sure he didn’t  _ mean  _ to sound cryptic, but the ambiguity left too many gaps that Yuri’s embarrassingly earnest emotions were forced to fill. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Otabek frowned, as if he were completely oblivious to the inner turmoil Yuri was experiencing. Yuri gritted his teeth and didn’t respond, still unable to come up with a useful retort. “Yuri,” Otabek said, his hand reaching towards Yuri. When his fingertips made contact with Yuri’s cheek, he tilted the younger boy’s head to face him once more. Before he could push farther than a few centimeters, Yuri’s neck stiffened, preventing anymore movement. As he froze, one hand shot up to swat away the offending limb, but stopped halfway, hovering uselessly in the air. Otabek’s fingertips burned tracks across Yuri’s cheek as they dragged away, the older boy frowning with concern.  “You’re upset. Tell me why.”

 

Yuri’s jaw locked. How was he supposed to explain it to Otabek when he couldn’t even explain it to himself? “I’m not upset,” he ground out.

 

“Yura. Come on,” Otabek protested, easily seeing through the lie. Yuri’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“‘Yura?’” Yuri repeated. “God! Who are you? My grandfather? My  _ mother _ ?” His tone was harsh, but behind the facade of anger, he was terrified of how much the pet name made his throat tighten. “Did we get all familiar without me noticing?” Otabek’s blank expression cracked slightly, his eyebrows furrowing with hurt. Yuri immediately felt a stab of guilt shoot through his chest, quickly followed by flickering flames of regret licking at his heart. 

 

“I’m sorry. It just came out. I won’t use it again.” Otabek’s voice was void of emotion, but it didn’t take an expert to read his mood by the tension that ran through his neck. 

 

“No,” Yuri forced the word out. “I’m not - I don’t -” he stuttered as he thought back to Viktor’s low warning from earlier in the afternoon. 

 

_ I hope you don’t talk to Otabek Altin like that.  _

 

Viktor had warned him against alienating people with his harsh tongue. 

 

_ Or you might end up with no person at all.  _

 

Alienating people, Yuri thought, was his one and only specialty. 

 

“You don’t what?” Otabek prodded, forcing Yuri to find an answer. 

 

“I don’t dislike it!” Yuri snapped. “Jesus! You can call me that!” He couldn’t keep his tone at a reasonable volume, his anxiety exploding outward as anger. 

 

“It doesn’t bother you?” Otabek asked, still frowning. 

 

“It doesn’t bother me!” Yuri repeated in a voice that sounded too high. “I fucking like it, okay?” The moment Yuri spit out the final sentence, Otabek’s face changed. His brow smoothed into a relaxed line, face still until the side of his mouth turned up into a half smile. Once more, his hand reached towards Yuri. This time, it landed on top of his head, ruffling his blonde hair. Yuri allowed himself to subtly lean into the touch. 

 

“Yura,” Otabek repeated fondly, his thumb dragging down the side of Yuri’s face. The gentle touch felt like a white-hot brand against Yuri’s skin. He was half expecting a blistering burn to appear along his jawline and up his chin as Otabek trailed his finger up to Yuri’s bottom lip. Yuri dropped his lower jaw, his slightly open mouth releasing a breath of warm air against Otabek’s thumb. The tiny action caused Otabek’s hand to tighten on Yuri’s face, pulling him a few centimeters closer. Yuri’s hands involuntary flew up to cup either side of Otabek’s face.

 

“Beka,” he mumbled, the wet part of his upper lip dragging against Otabek’s thumb, leaving a small spot of moisture. “Beka,” he said again, hands shaking where they were pressed against the other boy’s face. Part of Yuri screamed to let Otabek go, to shove him away and stand up. Maybe a few weeks ago, he would have. Instead, Yuri jerkily pulled him closer. The gap between them was shrinking.

 

“Are you going to kiss me?” Otabek asked, rubbing a cheek against Yuri’s right hand. Yuri’s breath caught in his throat, choked by the embarrassment of it all, but it was mere seconds before he pitched forward to push his lips to Otabek’s. Otabek’s hand fell away from Yuri’s face, instead wrapping around the smaller boy’s waist to pull him closer as they pressed against one another. 

 

Yuri didn’t make any attempt to move his jaw or tongue; instead he simply held his lips still, relishing in the warmth of another person. When he pulled away after a few seconds, Otabek pressed their foreheads together, his grip on Yuri’s waist tightening by a fraction. 

 

As if he didn’t want to let go, Yuri thought. 

 

Silently, they breathed together. Yuri kept his eyes closed, holding onto the moment until the sound of a key turning in a lock shocked him into movement. The metallic scraping had him bolting to the other cushion, forcing space between himself and Otabek. 

 

“Are you alright?” Otabek asked, arms still outstretched as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them when Yuri wasn’t close enough to hold onto. 

 

“I -” Yuri started to nod before he was interrupted by a door bursting open, followed by the shout of a young voice. 

 

“Beka!” 

 

Aisha’s familiar tone rang from the open door behind them. 

 

“And Yuri? What are you doing here?” Aisha beelined towards the sitting area and catapulted herself onto the chair. “Did your practice get cancelled?” 

 

“The rain,” Otabek explained simply. 

 

“Yuri too?” 

 

“Yuri too.” Otabek’s answers seemed to be confined by a two-word limit.

 

“What are you doing  _ here _ ?” Aisha turned to Yuri with a little frown of confusion. 

 

“Should I go?” Yuri teased, his voice not sounding entirely like his usual self. He felt strung out, and the urge to crawl back into Otabek’s arms was overwhelming. 

 

He wanted...

 

Yuri didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted too many things. He wanted to go back to their position from a few moments ago. He wanted Otabek to touch him again. He wanted the firm grip back on his face. He wanted to drag his lips across Otabek’s once more, this time taking advantage of the position instead of sitting still. 

 

“I guess you’re allowed to stay,” Aisha sighed, as if Yuri’s presence was the biggest inconvenience she would face all week. 

 

“What would I do without Aisha’s approval, really?” Yuri sighed sarcastically to Otabek, doing his best to avoid eye contact. If he looked at the other boy for too long, he felt as if he would blind himself. Otabek didn’t reply, instead making a small sound of agreement. Aisha eyed him suspiciously. 

 

“What’s with  _ you _ ?” She asked. Otabek played innocent, shaking his head and shrugging in confusion. Aisha squinted. “You’re blushing.”

 

“I’m not,” Otabek said as he rolled his eyes. Yuri hadn’t seen him lose his patience with his sister yet before, but Otabek seemed on edge. Not that Yuri could blame him. He was a bit on edge himself. He watched as Aisha crept closer to her brother and poked him playfully in the cheek. 

 

“You’re pink,” she teased before setting her glare on Yuri. He mirrored her expression and stared her down, half expecting her to back down. Instead, after a few seconds of eye contact, Aisha burst out laughing. 

 

“What’re you giggling about, you little insect?” Yuri growled, his face heating up. 

 

“If I interrupted something, you can just tell me,” Aisha smirked, her expression too knowing and mischievous for any ten-year-old. Yuri choked on anything he had planned to say. What the fuck had happened to his life? Here he was, being exposed by a fifth grader. 

 

Next to Yuri, Otabek’s tan face grew redder. Aisha was right; he had been blushing, and it seemed to get worse and worse. The blush extended down to his neck, but other than the unusual coloring, nothing about him admitted defeat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Otabek met Aisha’s knowing gaze. As embarrassed as Yuri was, the exchange reminded him of all he missed out on by being an only child. 

 

“Sure you don’t,” Aisha laughed in their faces. “I’ll be in my room.” With that, she scurried down the hall, out of sight. Otabek’s shoulders visibly relaxed. 

 

“That little shit,” Yuri complained, burying his face in his hands. 

 

“Told you she was like this,” Otabek said, huffing out a laugh. “If it weren’t such a pain, I would have enormous amounts of respect for her observation skills.” 

 

“And roasting skills,” Yuri added. 

 

“And roasting skills,” Otabek repeated, somewhat sullenly. 

 

As the moments passed without anymore interruptions, both boys began to relax once more. As much as Yuri’s lips still burned from the chaste kiss, he mostly kept to his side of the couch. He only breached Otabek’s territory to subtly brush his toe against the arch of Otabek’s sock-covered foot. Instead of speaking, they communicated through small touches, trading gentle movements as they processed everything that had happened over the past hour. After a few moments of tangled up feet and legs, Otabek reached down to wrap a warm hand around Yuri’s ankle, the touch more grounding than any words of reassurance. It felt like an electric shock, sensation shooting up his leg. In response, Yuri curled his toes around the fabric of Otabek’s jeans, holding on for dear life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this tweet is yuri during the neighbor scene https://twitter.com/stahrmilan/status/635642203130437632?lang=en


	8. Chapter 8

When Yuri got home from Otabek's house in the evening, he knew how likely it was that his grandfather was waiting for him. 

 

There was no way to hide the motorcycle; Otabek had pulled up to the end of Yuri’s driveway, leaving them in plain sight from the front window. Yuri didn't even have to look in order to know that his grandfather was probably watching. Luckily enough, Mrs. Petrov seemed to be indoors when they pulled up. Being shouted at by the neighbors in front of Otabek would be significantly more traumatic than the disappointment of his grandfather. At least Nikolai Plisetsky had the decency to wait until they were alone before they had it out. Nonetheless, Yuri knew that the old bat was probably peeking around her ugly drapes that covered the upstairs bedroom window. 

 

“Thanks for bringing me home,” Yuri said as he dismounted the bike. 

 

“Thanks for spending the afternoon with me,” Otabek replied. The street around them was silent, save the odd sound of birds twittering and cars passing by. Yuri was surprised by the stillness, normally there were herds of elementary and middle school aged kids with nothing better to do than roam the streets. Part of Yuri knew he should be grateful for the silence; without it, he was sure there would be eight year olds swarming Otabek’s bike, begging for a ride. But still, he was intimidated by the quiet, intimidated by the  prospect of being alone after all that had happened. 

 

“See you tomorrow, probably?” The statement came out of Yuri’s mouth sounding like a question. 

 

“Probably,” Otabek said with a smile. He started to reach for Yuri’s face, but stopped with his hand half raised. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, sounding a bit shy about it. Yuri wanted to laugh at Otabek. Who asked for permission to kiss someone after they had done so less than an hour before? 

 

“Why are you asking permission?” Yuri smirked. Otabek didn’t share his smile. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I ask permission?” he asked with a frown, hand still hovering uncertainly. “Is it a yes or no?” 

 

“It’s -” Yuri glanced at the window behind him, praying to every higher power that his grandfather wasn’t standing at the curtains. “It’s a yes,” he said, and reached out to tangle his fingers between Otabek’s. The leather of Otabek’s gloves ended at his middle knuckles, allowing Yuri to feel the warmth of the skin on his fingers, despite his hands being covered. Yuri pulled the hand to rest on his own face and relished in the contact. Touches shared with Otabek were unfamiliar territory; Yuri had never had the type of relationship that encouraged physical contact, and it was as if all the new touches were clouding Yuri’s brain and slowing his ability to think properly. When Otabek’s hands were on him or their limbs were pressed together, all Yuri could focus on was the electric current that ran through the point of contact. 

 

Yuri didn’t notice Otabek pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. He’d been distracted by the hand on his face. Now, their eyes met, Otabek’s dark brown ones boring into Yuri’s. His lips burned as he recalled the feeling of Otabek’s mouth pressed to his earlier in the day. Would Otabek ever just hurry up and indulge him?

 

As if he could read Yuri’s mind, Otabek tilted his face so the point of contact shifted from their foreheads to their lips. Yuri instinctively reached up to grab the back of Otabek’s neck, pulling him closer. If holding Otabek’s hand had clouds collecting in Yuri’s mind, kissing him was a thunderstorm.

 

Before things could go anywhere, Otabek was pushing against Yuri’s grip to lean away. Yuri’s first response was to chase his lips in attempt to lengthen the kiss, but after a second, concern for his pride had him pulling away as well. 

 

“There’s someone in the window,” Otabek explained when he noticed Yuri’s frown. “I don’t know how you feel about being watched.” It was the kind and subtle way of asking whether or not Yuri’s grandfather could know. 

 

“The worst I’ll get from him is a lecture,” Yuri said confidently, despite visibly wincing at his bad luck. The inevitable conversation Nikolai would want to have would be painful. He wasn’t certain how exactly his grandfather would react. They’d never talked about this sort of thing before, but dammit he was sixteen, not  _ five _ ! Something like this was bound to happen eventually and his grandfather couldn’t possibly be surprised, could he? 

 

“I’m glad,” Otabek said. “My parents are,” he paused, searching for the right word. “...odd about certain things. Unpredictable.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Yuri asked, not entirely able to focus after finding out for sure that  his grandfather was watching them. 

 

“They get mad about some things and not others. I can’t make rhyme or reason of it. I just have to hope for the best.” 

 

Now, despite casting his eyes down, Yuri was listening. “Would they not like me?” His face heated up at the desperate sound of his voice. What did he care what Otabek’s parents thought? That was a conversation for the far,  _ far _ future. If there was a future. God, Yuri wanted to punch himself for the stupid thought process alone. 

 

Aisha had mentioned they were Muslim, but not orthodox. Was Yuri, or more specifically, were Yuri and Otabek something they’d be upset over despite their more relaxed faith?  Fuck, it was all too much. Too much too fast. Yuri just wanted to kiss Otabek’s stupid face again, not worry about imaginary jackass parents. 

 

“What’s not to like?” Otabek teased, seemingly unaware of Yuri’s inner turmoil. “You’re cute.” He pressed a knuckle under Yuri’s chin and tilted his face up. “And funny.” Though the eye contact sent a rush of warmth to Yuri’s face, he fought to remain stoic. “And who wouldn’t fall victim to your charming personality?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“See? Charming. Besides, even if they didn’t, all you’d have to do is fall asleep on them. Worked on me.” 

 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Yuri snapped without heat, too embarrassed by the memory for real anger. “I thought I told you never to bring that up.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s embarrassing, that’s why!” 

 

“Okay,” Otabek chuckled quietly. “For the record, I thought it was cute.” Instead of responding, Yuri just pressed his lips together as his heart slammed against his chest. But Otabek was staring at him with his knowing eyes, and Yuri knew there wouldn’t be any more speaking until he answered. 

 

“You would,” he managed to get out. The burning desire to punch himself was back with a vengeance. Fucking Otabek and his ability to twist Yuri’s normally sharp tongue into the dull and useless organ sitting in his mouth. 

 

“Your grandfather is gone,” Otabek observed, looking over Yuri’s shoulder. 

 

“Afraid he’s hunting for the baseball bat he uses on all the other dark men on motorcycles that I bring home?” Yuri teased, doing his best to recover from the brief system failure Otabek had caused with his honey-laden words. 

 

“I guess I should be getting a head start then,” Otabek said, playing along with Yuri’s joke. He turned the key in the ignition and the bike roared to life. 

 

“You don’t want to hear about the dismembered teenage boys in the backyard?” 

 

“I think I’ll have to live without,” Otabek answered before pressing a light kiss to Yuri’s forehead. 

 

“You’re really missing out!” 

 

“Bye, Yura,” Otabek said as he kicked off the curb. Yuri’s fist clenched in the fabric of his pants at the nickname. 

 

“Bye, Beka,” Yuri called to Otabek’s retreating figure, probably too late for him to catch it. 

 

Yuri stood in the driveway until his heartbeat slowed and the heat left his face and neck. Who  _ was  _ he anymore? What disease had he caught that had symptoms like this? That was obviously the only explanation, as never in Yuri’s life had he found himself adrift in such strange waters. Every moment with Otabek, even before the kiss on the couch, felt like wading into a sea during high tide. As the waves crashed on the beach, Yuri’s mind and body were thrown into unfamiliar motions. If he looked in a mirror, he expected to find a burn seared onto his forehead where, only moments earlier, Otabek’s lips had pressed. At least second-degree, but perhaps not so severe to need medical treatment. 

 

After he recovered, Yuri whirled around and stomped up the driveway. He wouldn’t stand there like a fool any longer. Anxiety roiled in his stomach as he dreaded the inevitable confrontation with his grandfather. If his moments with Otabek were like rolling waves, the walk up the driveway was a whirlpool that spun him closer and closer to the dark, churning center. 

 

When he reached the front door, he squeezed the doorknob before entering. If there was a god, Yuri thought, it would strike him down on the doorstep before he had to face the unknown. 

 

No all-powerful deity took pity on Yuri within five seconds, so he nervously turned the handle and stepped inside. Across the entryway, his grandfather stood at the counter as he chopped vegetables. 

 

“Hi,” Yuri said, kicking his shoes into the foyer closet.

 

“Hello, Yuri,” Nikolai responded. Cautiously, Yuri crept closer to the kitchen. 

 

“What are you making?” He asked. Instead of replying, Nikolai set down the knife and turned to look at him. Yuri froze mid-step, frantically trying to judge the situation. Did it warrant scampering up the stairs and closing his bedroom door? Or could he safely, but awkwardly, stare at the wall until his grandfather was finished expressing his disappointment?

 

“I told you how I felt about that motorcycle,” Nikolai said flatly. 

 

“I know but I -” Yuri started. 

 

“Do you know? I think if you knew you would listen.” 

 

“Grandpa, he -”

 

“Yuri, will you please listen to me for just a moment?” He never raised his voice, but there was a strain evident in his tone. “I told you how I felt about that motorcycle. I give you all the freedom you could want and ask only one thing! And you cannot manage?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuri bit out, then sealed his lips once more. 

 

“I’m sure you are,” Nikolai said. “Tell me what’s so important that you cannot listen to the single thing I tell you.”

 

“I -” Yuri choked, eyes darting from the floor to his grandfather, then back to the floor. He  _ knew _ , he had  _ seen _ , why was he asking Yuri to explain it? “I wanted to be with him and - and that’s all that was there.”

 

“Can you two not be together at practice? You two can’t wait for a day he brings that car instead? Both of you have to go against the one rule I set for you?”

 

“I -” Yuri’s voice trembled once more. “He didn’t know. I told him it was fine, alright? If you’re going to be mad, just be mad at me.” 

 

Nikolai’s face softened slightly. “You lied to him?” 

 

“I wanted to go with him!” Yuri snapped, hating himself to admit it. “He asked me and I didn’t want to say no!”

 

A deep sigh filled the silence between Yuri’s admission and Nikolai’s reply. “Oh, Yurotchka. You’re too young to be tangled up in this kind of thing.” 

 

“Grandpa, I’m sixteen,” Yuri groaned. 

 

“Yes, I suppose you are.” Nikolai reached up to rub at his temples. “I’ll tell you what.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I don’t care that you see him.” Some of the tension in Yuri’s shoulders released at that. “Oh, Yurotchka,” his grandfather sighed with pity at Yuri’s obvious anxiety. “If that’s  what’s got you all tensed up and ready for a fight, don’t bother. Why would I have a problem with that?” Yuri blushed at the verbal reference to whatever he and Otabek were doing. “But if I find out you’re on that motorcycle again, then I  _ will  _ have a problem with you seeing him. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

 

“Yes, Grandpa,” Yuri nodded furiously. Despite the clear reassurance from his grandfather, Yuri still felt near tears. It must have been written all over his face, because after a few painful swallows to dislodge the lump in his throat, Nikolai sighed once more before pulling a chair out from the table. He turned it so it faced Yuri, and motioned for him to sit down. 

 

Yuri shuffled over to the chair and slumped down. Once he was comfortable, he slid towards the table and rested his head on the cool wood. His grandfather gave his hair a quick ruffle before moving the knife and vegetables to the spot across the table from Yuri. 

 

“Do you want to talk?” Nikolai asked. Yuri made an unintelligible sound in response. “Where’d you say you found him? Football practice?” 

 

“Mm,” Yuri grunted in confirmation. The steady rhythm of the knife chopping the vegetables was lulling him into calmness. 

 

“Don’t tell me you were lying about a younger sister, Yuri,” Nikolai groaned. Yuri’s eyes flashed open at that. 

 

“Of course I wasn’t lying,” Yuri said. 

 

“You didn’t just not want to tell me you two were together?” 

 

“Jesus, Grandpa!” Yuri lifted his head from the table. “Together? We aren’t - it’s new! We didn’t - I haven’t -”

 

“Well. I just assumed from what you looked like in the street,” Nikolai reasoned. 

 

“I - You -” Yuri stuttered. “I knew you were watching! Jesus, why?” He slammed his head back onto the table, refusing to look at his grandfather. 

 

“You were out in the open. And besides,” Nikolai said with a heavy shrug. “Wouldn’t you rather I just see it instead of hearing about it from the neighbors?” 

 

“Mrs. Petrov,” Yuri whispered in horror. Yes, his grandfather was right. As painful as the argument and explanations had been, that way was far better than being dependent on his crazy neighbor not fucking him over. 

 

“Tell me about him, Yuri,” Nikolai used the knife to corral chopped carrots to one end of the cutting board as he spoke. “He better not be any kind of troublemaker, what with that bike and all.” He pointed the knife at Yuri, which in most cases might be threatening, but with his grandfather it just meant an unavoidable telling-off. “That hair, Yura, he looks like a thug.” 

 

“Tch! His hair’s normal, I like his hair!” Yuri jumped to defend Otabek’s fashionable style. “And he’s not like that, Grandpa. Aren’t you being judgemental?” Otabek was definitely the type of boy someone could bring home to their parents and they wouldn’t just  _ like  _ him, they’d be impressed by him. Quiet, but articulate. Intelligent, but restrained. He was the all-around nice guy, despite his mildly unconventional appearance. Though Otabek dressed in black and drove the stupid motorcycle, Yuri couldn’t name a single event that would warrant a parent’s worry. Well, other than the weed, Yuri thought. And the JJ. But his grandfather didn’t have to know about either of those parts. 

 

“I’m not being  _ judgemental _ ,” Nikolai huffed. The longer word sounded choppy in his Russian accent, that of which remained despite it being many years since he’d left the country. “I’m trying to protect my grandson, who, despite insisting that he is  _ sixteen _ , still has much to learn about the world.” 

 

“Grandpa, I’m not a baby,” Yuri insisted. 

 

“Did I say you were a baby?” Nikolai scowled. “I’ve been alive much longer than you and I still don’t understand everything, so don’t try to convince me you know it all.” 

 

“At least I understand that you can’t just call people  _ thugs _ .”

 

“No attitude from you,” Nikolai sniffed. “You’ve caused me enough grief for one day, wouldn’t you agree?” 

 

“I said I was sorry!” Yuri exclaimed. “What more do you want?” 

 

“I want you to bring him over here next time,” Nikolai answered. 

 

“Oh, Grandpa, no!” Yuri cried. “It was hypothetical!” 

 

“Are you embarrassed of me? I can tell you a thousand stories of you embarrassing me if that makes it any easier.” Nikolai raised his eyebrows at Yuri, daring him to argue. Instead of picking another fight, Yuri just turned his head so he was facedown on the table and allowed his nose to be squished painfully into his face. 

 

“Don’t make me,” Yuri said with a muffled voice. 

 

“If you’re going to be parading off to the ends of the Earth with someone, I’d prefer to be acquainted with them.”

 

“I’m not  _ parading _ to the ends of the earth with anyone!”

 

“Well then, to get a good description of the suspect if you ever go missing.” 

 

Again, Yuri’s head shot up. “I - You -” he stuttered. “You’re awful!” 

 

“I’m teasing you, Yurotchka,” Nikolai said with a smile that, finally, for the first time that night, reached his eyes. Relief swept through Yuri at the subtle expression. 

 

Everything was fine, he told himself. Grandpa wasn’t mad anymore, he didn’t have to worry. The thick feeling of tears behind his eyes and a lump in his throat returned. He didn’t know where all this  _ fucking  _ anxiety came from, but whenever he argued with his grandfather, it made an appearance. As much as he tried to silence it, a voice in his head would whisper fearful thoughts, creating an undercurrent beneath all the already-overwhelming surface emotions. 

 

Don’t make it worse, he’s already angry enough. 

 

He’s going to get sick of this eventually. 

 

If he leaves you, who will you have left to love you? 

 

Who have you ever had to love you?

 

“It’s alright, Yuri,” the calm sound of Nikolai’s voice floated through the air. 

 

“I -” Yuri tried to speak, but the repressed sob squeezed his throat so tightly that no words could make it out. Before he could start blubbering, he turned his back on his grandfather and allowed the choked back cry release, a few tears falling onto his cheeks as he gasped. As quickly as they had fallen, Yuri was wiping them away. 

 

“I love you no matter what, Yurotchka,” Nikolai said to the back of Yuri’s head. “There’s no need to worry.” 

 

Yuri coughed slightly before turning halfway around. “Do you mind if I go lie down upstairs?” He wanted to collapse on top of something, preferably a bed or other soft surface. 

 

“Would you like to watch something on TV?” Nikolai asked kindly. “I don’t like you alone when you’re upset.” 

 

“Sure,” Yuri replied in a scratchy voice before heading to the living room. His head was starting to throb at the effort it took to keep a neutral expression. 

 

Nikolai followed closely behind, and when Yuri sprawled himself onto the sofa, his grandfather took the space on the end near his feet. Before Yuri could find the remote, Nikolai was already changing the channel to Russian programming. Yuri suppressed a groan. He too spoke the language, but he far preferred English television. He knew if he complained, his grandfather would grunt once more about how much trouble Yuri caused him, and how he deserved to watch his own shows after the evening they’d had. 

 

After watching his grandfather set the remote on the coffee table, Yuri prodded the man with his toes. 

 

“What is it?” Nikolai asked, sparing him a glance. 

 

“My feet hurt,” Yuri complained. Practice at Minako’s had been brutal the day before, and his toes were taking the brunt of the punishment. Nikolai rolled his eyes, but lifted Yuri’s feet into his lap. 

 

“Where does it hurt?” 

 

“Everywhere,” Yuri groaned. His grandfather scoffed but still immediately went to work, gently rubbing the arches of Yuri’s sock-covered feet with his thumbs. 

 

“I’m still serious about bringing him over,” Nikolai said. 

 

“Grandpa, now? It’s too soon,” Yuri whined. “It’s been, like, three hours since we -” he cut himself off, a blush threatening to bloom across his face at the memory. 

 

“You’ve gone home with him before,” Nikolai reasoned. “I don’t see why he can’t come here.”

 

“I didn’t meet his  _ parents _ !” 

 

“Shame. Anyone’s parents would feel lucky to have their son date such a nice boy like you.” Nikolai punctuated his thought with a particularly deep press of his fingers against Yuri’s foot. 

 

“We aren’t  _ dating _ ,” Yuri grumbled, less than thrilled to discuss his newfound romantic life with his grandfather. 

 

“Do kids call it something else now?” 

 

“Tch,” Yuri clucked in response. Nikolai gave Yuri’s ankle a little poke. 

 

“I’d ask to meet him whether it was like that or not. I want to know the people you decide to let into your life.” His tone was too serious for Yuri’s emotional capacity in that moment. To avoid formulating an answer, Yuri turned his head and shoved it into the sofa cushion. 

 

There, that was a good decision, Yuri thought. No one would force him to answer their questions, no one would give him eerily knowing looks, and no one would see the mortified expressions on his face. 

 

It was a good ten minutes before Yuri finally unearthed his face from the couch. By that time, Nikolai was dozing through the shoot-out scene of some action TV show. With a roll of his eyes, Yuri gently lifted his feet from his grandfather’s lap, trying his best not to jostle the elderly man. Knowing his grandfather though, not even an F5-level tornado would shake him from his slumber. 

 

Once free from the sofa, Yuri climbed upstairs to his bedroom. The small upstairs portion of the house was dark, but Yuri didn’t bother turning on the light. He’d lived in the house all his life, and would know it deaf and blind. Darkness was nothing. 

 

The idea of telling Otabek that his grandfather was demanding an audience was daunting, but in the back of Yuri’s mind, he knew that the sooner he dealt with it, the sooner it would be over. In his room, he flopped onto his bed. His grandfather always scolded him for wearing his street clothes in bed, claiming it got the sheets dirty, but Yuri couldn’t make himself care. He’d probably wear his shoes onto his bed if he hadn’t taken them off by the sofa earlier. 

 

Tapping his phone against his chin, he wracked his brain for an easy way to bring up the topic. 

 

_ weird night with my grandfather _

 

There, an easy opening, Yuri thought. Otabek’s reply was almost instantaneous. 

 

_ Everything go alright?  _

 

Otabek didn’t have to spell it out - Yuri saw the concern in the simple three-word message. 

 

_ no need to worry. he was just pissed about the bike _

 

_ I thought you said he was fine with it.  _

 

Fuck! In his anxiety about bringing up the inevitable meeting, Yuri had forgotten about his white lie to Otabek. He fought to keep his message casual, but there was a certain amount of guilt twisting itself in his chest. 

 

_ may have exaggerated that one. sorry. anyway he wants to meet you?? idk, if its too weird i can probably find a way to get you out of it _

 

Casual, casual, casual. That’s what Yuri was going for, right? Maybe Otabek would think it was too soon or too awkward. The three little bubbles that indicated Otabek was  typing appeared on the screen, then disappeared for a few seconds. This repeated itself a few times, each pause in typing spiking Yuri’s anxiety by a few degrees. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before a message appeared on Yuri’s screen, but it felt like hours.

 

_ I don’t see why it’s weird, but if you’re uncomfortable with it then maybe we shouldn’t.  _

 

Yuri scoffed at the text. It wasn’t  _ him  _ he was worried about! That moron.  

 

_ i’m not uncomfortable the offer was for your sake, asshole. when are you free? _

 

It was a moment before Otabek responded to that one. 

 

Was he actually offended at Yuri’s insult? Jesus Christ. 

 

The blessed sound of a notification chirped from the phone. Yuri’s attention laser-focused itself back to the screen.

 

_ Saturday? _

 

Really, Yuri thought, it shouldn’t take more than a second to type a single word. Fuck, he was starting to sound like Mila when she was dating that shitty guy the year before. Always whining about being ignored and waiting for her texts to be answered. Yuri would  _ not  _ be like that. He forced himself to wait a moment to reply; no one had to know about his pathetic desperation but himself. 

 

_ that works. see you tomorrow? _

 

Yuri tapped out the message and then moved to plug his phone into the charger next to his bed. When it vibrated in his hand, he expected it to be another closing text, similar  to the one he had sent. Instead, it was a question. 

 

_ Can I call you? _

 

Yuri stared down at the screen. Could he  _ call  _ him? Who talked on the phone anymore? The only person that ever called Yuri was his grandfather and on certain occasions, Minako. Yuri wasn’t sure if he even knew how to  _ have  _ a proper phone conversation. 

 

Impulsively, he typed  _ sure _ and tossed his phone onto his comforter. A few seconds passed, consisting of Yuri’s unwavering gaze fixed upon the device. When it began to ring, he made no move to answer it. Why didn’t he just say no? There was time to make an excuse! He was showering, he was going to bed, he was... anything! But by then it was too late, and he couldn’t  _ ignore  _ the call. Not that he really wanted to, after all. 

 

Slowly, he picked up the phone and pressed the green button that would accept the call. “Hello?” He asked, as if it the identity of the caller was questionable. 

 

“Hi, Yuri.” Otabek’s voice was low and quiet on the other end. 

 

“What’s up?” Yuri asked. Why in the everloving fuck, Yuri wanted to ask, was this boy calling him?

 

“You seemed annoyed in your texts,” Otabek said cautiously. “I wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

 

Yuri was silent on the other end. What kind of human being was Otabek? Calling to ask if he was alright because his  _ text messages  _ seemed off? 

 

“Yuri?” Otabek asked. 

 

“What?” Yuri said distractedly. “I’m fine. I had a weird night, I guess. I’m not annoyed.” 

 

“Weird how?” Otabek pressed. Were they really going to have an entire conversation? One that could be conducted through text? 

 

“I’m sure you can imagine the  _ fantastic  _ chat I had with my grandfather tonight.” Yuri’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he ran a hand through his hair. It could use a brushing. 

 

“Hm,” Otabek said neutrally. “I thought you said it went alright? Other than the bike.” 

 

“Yeah it was fine,” Yuri sighed. “Just awkward and - fuck I dunno, a little draining.” 

 

“Had you ever... talked about anything like this before?” 

 

“Shit, no,” Yuri laughed. “There’s never been - I’ve never,” he searched for the words, but came up empty. “You know?” 

 

Otabek huffed out a laugh. “I know.”

 

“So yeah,” Yuri continued, trying his best to brush off the topic. He didn’t want to go into detail about whatever had caused his panic earlier in the evening. Yuri didn’t think  most boys wanted to hear about his pathetic abandonment issues. “Awkward and draining.” 

 

“Why draining?” Otabek continued to question him. 

 

“Fuck, I dunno,” Yuri said once more. “It’s unknown territory. Don’t know how he’s gonna react. If it had been bad I wasn’t sure what I would do.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Fuck Otabek and his melodic, succinct sentences. Encouraging Yuri to talk himself into corners, easily and smoothly needling explanations out of him. “Well I mean,” he stumbled. “I mean if he doesn’t like something, then. Who else is there?” Yuri tried to make the statement less depressing by tacking on a laugh at the end, but it came out tense and forced. 

 

“Hm,” Otabek said again. “Sounds like he loves you no matter what. I don’t think there’s any reason to worry. But you know that already.” 

 

“I - yeah. I guess I do.” Talking about it with Otabek and hearing the truth from an outside source, the confirmation that everything would be alright, calmed Yuri’s nerves in a way no angry wall-kicking or excessive exercising would. Maybe the phone call hadn’t been such a bad idea. 

 

“Yeah?” Otabek asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuri repeated. He adjusted his position to lean against the wall, and when he glanced into the mirror across the room, a dopey smile was plastered across his face. It was almost comical to watch his bright expression go dark and annoyed. Did he always look that ridiculous when he was talking to Otabek? Yuri pondered the idea in horror. “How’s Aisha?” He asked, steering the subject in another direction. 

 

“Oh, she’s doing well. She went to a friend’s house tonight then had to tell me all about it.” 

 

“She’s such a cool kid,” Yuri laughed, fondly. “A little shit, but cool.” 

 

“Yeah?”  

 

“Yeah.” Yuri scratched at the back of his neck. “Fuck, I was such a little asshole when I was her age-”

 

“You? No,” Otabek said in mock surprise. 

 

“Hey, shut the hell up,” Yuri barked out a laugh, before falling silent with a plan to drop the subject without finishing his train of thought. 

 

“I’m just teasing, what did you mean?” Otabek prodded for him to continue.  

 

“No, you suck! I’m not saying anything now.” Otabek was silent on the other end. Yuri could imagine the other boy’s unamused but expectant expression. “Tch, I don’t know,” Yuri continued. “I was a pissed-off little kid who didn’t like to talk. Never had a friend my own age. Friends weren’t really my thing in general until -” Yuri stopped, hoping Otabek would catch his drift or at least have the decency to move on. 

 

Until you, Yuri thought. No way in hell he would say that out loud. Not without a gun to his head. 

 

Otabek was quiet for a moment on the other end, realizing after a second that Yuri didn’t want to continue. He bridged the gap of silence by repeating a story Aisha had told him about her friend’s house. 

 

He pulled the phone away from his face and tapped the button that enabled speaker-phone. As Otabek spoke, Yuri removed his shirt and pants. By then, he had no plans to move for the rest of the night until he went to sleep. 

 

“It’s not late, but I’m so tired,” Yuri complained after Otabek had finished the story. 

 

“You did a lot today,” Otabek reasoned. “I’d be tired too. Do you want to go to bed?” 

 

“No, I’m alright,” Yuri punctuated the sentence with a yawn. 

 

“Are you sure?” Otabek laughed. Yuri grunted unintelligibly. 

 

“Tell me something,” Yuri requested, laying the phone on the pillow next to him before closing his eyes. 

 

“Something?”

 

“Anything,” he sighed. 

 

So Otabek described his trip with his mother and sister to the shoe store earlier in the week. 

 

Yuri rubbed his face into the fabric of his pillowcase. It was recently washed and soft to the touch. Otabek’s voice in the background kept his thoughts from wandering. When Otabek was describing his conversation with the cashier, Yuri could barely hear anymore, and by the time he reached the end of the anecdote, Yuri was drifting off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (08/01/2018) so i've kind of abandoned this fic as life and other interests arose. i truly appreciate all the kind messages people have left and i apologize that i may have disappointed with lack of updates. maybe someday i will return to this and make an effort to finish, but i cannot make promises as i just cant guarentee ill have it in me. but again, thank you.


End file.
